


Harry Potter and the Shards of Heaven

by GhostandMiracle42



Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cosmere, Cosmere compliant retelling of Harry Potter, Depression, F/F, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fluff and Angst, Gods, Hogwarts Fourth Year, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Shards: Imagination and Equality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2020-10-19 13:47:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 28
Words: 119,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20658251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostandMiracle42/pseuds/GhostandMiracle42
Summary: Years ago, two gods crashed on Earth after a brutal war in the heavens. Trapped in eternal slumber by Merlin, these gods’ presence on Earth has been shaping the evolution of Wizard kind for generations. What can run-away wizard Harry Potter possibly do against a power that can kill a god?A Fourth Year AU with a Cosmere Continuity twist featuring the Shards of Imagination and Equality, with a bit of Odium to spice things up.





	1. Chapter 1

# Harry Potter and the Shards of Heaven

# By Ghost and Miracle

* * *

** _  
_ **

# Disclaimer: 

Ghost walked up the stairs from the basement, a five-year-old with fluorescent pink hair sitting on his shoulders, attempting to steer him up the stairs by yanking on two strands of his hair.

"Miracle! Help!" He yelled, pulling himself up the staircase as Madeline giggled.

"Faster!"

"Yes, dear," came Miracle's distracted voice. Ghost, with no small degree of pain and effort, reached the top of the stairs. Miracle sat at the dining table, hunched over the Cosmic Typewriter of Infinite Power. On her lap was her fuzzy white dog, named Pirate for his insistent and bizarre barking whenever Johnny Depp came on TV. Ghost's sister Crystal leaning over her shoulder.

"Onwards!" Madeline cried, twisting his hair in a particularly violent tug. He tripped on the final stair, and they both went crashing to the floor.

"Ow."

"Did you hear something?" Crystal asked.

"I think it was something along the lines of, ‘We don't own Harry Potter in any way shape or form,'" Miracle replied.

"Ah yes, that was it. Are you ready?"

"As we'll ever be." Miracle leaned past the typewriter and grabbed a margarita.

"To new stories!" The girls said, clinking glasses.

"Hey, wait, I want one!" Ghost yelled, but it was too late. Miracle pressed the upload button, and they drank.

* * *

# Volume 1: Equality's Downfall

# Chapter 1:

_"My research has led me across the world, only to bring me back to where I started. To think that they have been here all this time – two Gods, imprisoned on Earth. I have finally found them. Tomorrow, I will enter their tomb, and I will have the answers I've been searching for my entire life. If I do not return, I have sent a copy of this journal – unfinished – to Hogwarts, and hopefully these words will find their way into the hands of someone who can succeed where I have no doubt failed. I will not return without a way to help my people. I will not fail. I _cannot _fail."_

_From the Diary of Merlinus Caledonensis; Earth, 537 Common Era. The last year of Merlin's writings are highly unreliable as a source, as it is widely understood that he was under a curse of unknown intent cast by the Dark Lady Morgana Le Fay. _

* * *

The sight of a seven-year-old boy grasping a pair of broken glasses in his hand as he walked home from school was so familiar to the residents of Little Whinging, Surrey, that its inhabitants just rolled their eyes at him. In some cases, the conversation within one of the neighbourhood houses would turn to, "the type of riff-raff we don't want in these parts," at his passing. Not one of them bothered to ask the boy with the rat's nest of black hair and threadbare oversized clothes _why_ he was walking home with a swollen eye and a dislocated collar bone. If you asked them, they'd tell you that he'd probably deserved it. The boy – whose name was Harry – had in fact grown so used to this turn of events that he didn't expect anyone to come and help him. In fact, his biggest hope was that the universe would just leave him alone for the duration of his trek home. Maybe, if he were really lucky, he'd make it to his cupboard under the stairs without seeing his Uncle Vernon. If he _was_ caught, he'd most likely be suffering for quite a while. Stopping little Diddykins and his friends from playing their favourite game, "Harry Hunting," was a sure-fire way to earn his Uncle's wrath. And considering his head was very sore right now, he'd rather not add broken ribs to the list of injuries he'd wake up with tomorrow.

But, as the Harry Potters of the Multiverse would tell him if he'd asked; Destiny would never just leave a Harry Potter alone.

That was how young Harry found himself staring into a stormy sky with blurry eyes. Though he couldn't see it without his glasses, he could hear the thunder tearing through the clouds. Rain poured from the dim sky, leaving him thoroughly soaked within minutes. Resisting the urge to laugh at the stupidity of thinking the universe would give him a break, he pulled Dudley's old shirt tighter around him and trudged on, his duck-taped shoes squelching in the puddles on the footpath.

"Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me…" Harry muttered to himself as he stepped onto Privet Drive. It was an odd thing, birthdays. For one, he'd never had one before. Dudley had birthdays. But he'd never stopped to think that he might have one as well before his teacher had mentioned it that day. It was offhand, a simple comment as he stepped into his classroom that morning, but there it was. He'd been so stunned he walked into Daisy Campbell's desk and fallen over. If that had been the end of it, Harry would have been overjoyed. But Harry's luck was never that good. Dudley had overheard the comment, and Harry was genuinely amazed his cousin hadn't blown a gasket right then and there. But Dudley, despite his bright red face and shaking fists, had maintained his composure for most of the day. Harry had hoped he'd forget entirely. Dudley was quite stupid after all. But he'd definitely remembered, and Harry had been subjected to the worst bout of Harry Hunting he could remember.

He'd tried to be angry, like Dudley, like Uncle Vernon. Being angry always seemed to give them extra strength to use. But all he could bring himself to feel was… empty. There was just _nothing _to feel. This was how things were. There was no point in questioning it, denying it, hoping for anything different. He'd tried once. He'd followed Milly Brown home and hid in her garden, listening to how her parents loved her and cared for her. It wasn't like Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia with Dudley. She wasn't smothered. It was just there. Comfort and belonging. Two things Harry would never experience for himself. You just had to live with the hand that life dealt you. No more, no less.

It was that mentality, hardened and shaped by more _‘altercations' _than Harry could remember, that brought him to the front door of Number 4, Privet Drive. Before he could even twist the doorknob, the door jerked open of its own accord, revealing the towering form of Uncle Vernon.

Harry's Uncle Vernon it should be noted, was a very rotund man. He had two chins, meaty fists, beady eyes that looked too small for the size of his head, a bushy blonde moustache, and a large purple vein that ran across his left temple. His maximum possible walking speed was about one kilometre an hour on his best day, and he could only cover about fifteen minutes of that hour before collapsing from exhaustion. It also stood to reason that Harry was terrified of the man.

"YOU!" he snapped, "Get inside this minute!!" No chance at all of reaching his cupboard.

Vernon didn't wait for Harry to step inside the house. He grabbed him by the collar and dragged Harry inside, dumping him to the living room floor. Petunia was cuddling Dudley, who was balling his eyes out and thrashing in her grip.

Vernon rounded on Harry, the vein at his temple bulging a nasty shade of purple.

"What did you do to Dudley, Freak!!" Harry had never once heard his Uncle call him by name. He hadn't actually known what his name was until his first day of school when he was five. His teacher had berated him for trying to write ‘Freak' with his crayon.

"I didn't do anything," Harry said. He kept his tone weak and dejected. That usually made what came next a little easier.

"He did it! He did it! He stole it!!!!!" Dudley screamed.

"Hush, hush darling," Petunia whispered, running a hand through Dudley's hair. If Dudley was a perfect clone of his father, Petunia looked the complete opposite. Tall and thin as a rake, with a long, hooked nose and a haughty attitude, she was the type of person you'd expect to be the villain of a Real Housewives show.

"WHAT DID YOU STEAL!!" Vernon growled, lifting Harry up by the throat this time. He dropped the broken halves of his glasses and clasped at the hand.

"I didn't steal anything," he choked back.

"He stole my day! My birthday! He doesn't have a birthday because he's a freak!!!" Dudley raged. Vernon's eyes flashed, and he threw Harry into the kitchen counter. His head slammed into the marble, and he crumpled to the floor, black flecks danced across his eyes. Something silver flickered at the edge of awareness, and a voice seemed to come from far away. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't support his weight, and he collapsed back to the floor. Something wet trickled down his forehead. Harry's stomach twisted into a knot, his head pounding and aching.

Stupid as it was, Harry bit off a laugh.

"Everyone has a birthday, you idiot," he muttered wryly. He coughed again, pulling air into his lungs.

Uncle Vernon kicked him in the ribs, and Harry slid into a wall. This time, when he coughed flecks of blood dripped from his mouth, and an added thickness rose in his throat. Harry closed his eyes and waited for whatever came next. He found that not knowing was easier. He could try and pretend the pain was someone else's. That maybe when he opened his eyes, he would have parents that loved him, like Millie. He found himself wishing for that. Believing in the idea that maybe now he really could get a happy ending, wherever it was that people went when they died.

‘_Harry!'_

Harry's mind floated in self-imposed darkness, waiting for the next kick. He held to that belief. He built in his mind – a scene of himself, just sitting, beneath a Christmas tree with two people, both with thick dark hair and green eyes like his. Belief was the only thing he had in the darkness.

_‘Stretch forth thy hand!' _

No… that wasn't right. He wasn't alone. There was a voice. A feminine voice, speaking his name. A silver light, blazing like the sun, floated just out of his reach, over his shoulder. Sliding away when he tried to see what it was.

_‘Trust me! Take my hand!'_

"Curse the day I took you in!! I would have been better off without you or your kind in my life!!"

Harry had heard that comment more times than he could count. Another kick crashed into his chest. He wheezed another shaky breath, the image shattered, the darkness returned… and the silver light still pulsed. What was it? It, looked almost like a hand, reaching out from the darkness. There was a feeling… he wasn't sure what it was exactly. Creativity? Energy? Awe? The light grew stronger the more he focussed on it…

_‘Let me in, please, he's coming for me!' _

Instinctively, hesitantly, he reached for the hand in the darkness. His eyes shot open, and the entire house was bathed in bright silver light.

* * *

**8 years later…**

Harry, Emily, James and Makani crouched in the hedges surrounding an old colonial house in East London. The house belonged to an old geezer with a peg-leg and a glass eye, most likely a veteran of some kind, whom Sammy had been watching for several weeks now. Sammy was the Bunker's best spy – aside from Harry, who was practically the best at everything – and she took it personally whenever one of the people from the Bunker spotted a potential predator. He was new to the area, and Martin had seen the man eyeing up people, particularly families with children, while walking along the streets. When he'd reported him to the Bunker's staff, Sammy had predictably stated that she was going to scout the man to be sure… Martin did have a tendency to jump at shadows after all (not that it was his fault, the man had his leg blown off by an IED and didn't see a scrap of government compensation, so being nervous was the least that could be expected from the bloke). Sammy reported that the man was very, very odd. He spent hours watching the street from his window, kept his curtains pulled closed at all times, and Martin had been right in his observation that his eyes lingered too long on the people he met - as if evaluating them. Sammy had also reported hearing screaming and cussing from the house. Together, they painted a grim picture. Which was why Harry and his team, dressed in what black clothing the people at the Bunker could spare, were out here in the dead of night.

Makani flew out of the sky trailing silver mist behind her, wings buzzing frantically. She came to rest on Harry's shoulder, folding her transparent wings around her waist and flipping her wavy blonde hair out of her face. Her silver dress and slippers, as always, were immaculate, and her skin was a pale blue colour.

"Sammy says he hasn't come home since he left this morning. Now is as good a time as any," she said, grinning mischievously, electric blue eyes flaring with excitement. He glanced towards Emily and James. Both of them were a few years older than he was, but they knew he was in charge tonight. He thought for sure it must grate on them, but they gave no sign. Maybe Harry's reputation was just that good these days. The duo nodded towards him; evidently, Makani had made herself visible to them, something she was usually quite loath to do.

Grinning, Harry jumped over the hedge in a single leap. He shouldn't have been able to do it. Not given how short, scrawny and underfed he was. But he made it easily, landing on the grass without even a stumble. He _believed _he could jump a hedge, so he _could._ That was how the world worked. At least, it was how the world worked for Harry since he was seven years old. Ever since he met Mak.

Mak jumped off his shoulder, wings unfurling as she backflipped through the air, and flitted to the gate.

"No lock," she said, with a look of confusion on her tiny face.

"Electronic?" he whispered.

"Nope. I can't see any Charge coming from the gate." Harry furrowed his brows. No lock… that could mean that the lock on the door was a very good one, there was something he was missing, or they were grossly wrong about the man.

Harry shrugged. It didn't really matter anyway. He held his hand towards the gate, and a familiar static rushed through him. The gate swung open, and James and Emily slipped inside. They scanned the house for any sign of cameras, but there were none. This man's security was seriously lax.

Harry made to advance to the front door, but Mak flitted in front of the trio, holding up a hand. She dropped down to the pavement and stepped across the stone pathway very carefully.

"Mak? What is it?"

"I don't know… something, _foreign. _Not of us, but similar."

"That doesn't make any sense," Harry breathed, looking around hesitantly.

"I know it doesn't! I'm as confused as you are," she snapped back.

"Harry, mate, we're sitting ducks right now," James muttered, mirroring Harry's actions.

"Mak…"

"I don't know." Harry held his hand out in front of him and fixated an image in his head. The pathway in front of them, devoid of any traps of any kind. There were no traps for them to trigger because there _were _no traps. Harry snapped his fingers. Nothing happened.

He advanced down the pathway quickly, his friends following behind. They reached the door, and Mak put her ear to the lock.

"Tumblers," she hissed. Harry nodded. His powers worked in funny ways. If something had a chance – a probability – of occurring a specific way, then, thanks to his bond with Makani, he could make events happen the way he _believed_ it should happen. A footpath that _might _be full of traps he didn't know were there, could become a footpath that _didn't _have traps at all. Nylah, the smartest person Harry knew, thought it had something to do with ‘Quantum Probability Fields'. Mak had never heard of them before, and Harry had definitely not understood her explanation. Things that were certain, physical, however, could not be manipulated so easily. They required him to use the other side of his powers. The six forces.

Harry drew in a breath, and the tingling in his fingers intensified. He focussed on the pins and pulled them apart. It was really quite simple. The pins in a tumbler lock were held in place partly by the mechanism – made from metal (usually steel or brass). But there was also gravity involved. Gravity was easy for Harry. All it took was a quick jolt of Fusion Force, and the lock on the door sprang open with barely a sound. Harry eased the door open slightly, and the hinges started to squeak. He instantly stopped moving. So, the man wasn't a complete idiot then. Time for some showing off.

He flicked his fingers towards the door and made a circular motion. The static surged into Harry's fingers, and the air suddenly became heavy. Charge Force, according to Mak, was the most versatile of the six forces. More importantly, aside from granting power over magnetism and electricity, Charge was what allowed for the manipulation of waves. Lightwaves. _And_ Soundwaves. This time, when he pushed the door open, no sound escaped the bubble of sound resistant air encompassing the doorway. James and Emily snuck in behind him, and he closed the door.

The house was like most modest sized houses in London. The small entryway Harry found himself in contained a doorway to the left – which would lead to the kitchen, laundry and living space – a staircase in front of him leading both up and down – bedrooms, attic and basement – and a door to the right – the garage.

"Mak, go with Emily and check the bedrooms. James, you've got the basement. I'll once over the ground and then help upstairs," Harry whispered, and they all nodded. Mak zipped up the stairs, Emily stepping far more carefully in her wake. James vanished down the stairs, and Harry took the doorway to the left.

The house looked very mundane. Kitchen with unwashed dishes, a newspaper draped over the arm of a ratty couch. Who still read newspapers anyway? He started rifling through the man's drawers. He could read passably, but he wasn't good by any means. He could speak English, French and German rather fluently though – Bran Alvear, Emily's father, considered himself a bit of a linguist. The papers seemed mostly to be gibberish. Talking about Aurors and Ministries… was the man a government goon? If he was, and he discovered three kids and a faerie breaking into his house, it could mean all kinds of trouble. Or, well, just the three kids really, as he obviously wouldn't be able to see Mak.

No, odds were, this was a bust. Which was very much a good thing, all else considered. Harry had broken into numerous wealthy homes and robbed them over the years, but he only ever stole from those who deserved it.

A crash echoed from atop the stairs, and Harry sprinted. He abandoned the papers and bolted back into the entranceway. He mounted the stairs three at a time, and as he reached the first-floor landing, Mak screamed, "Duck!"

Harry did so, and a jet of red light shot over his head. What the fuck?

Harry pulled the static into his skin and jumped to his feet. The grey-haired man with the peg-leg – the owner of the house – was standing in the hallway, holding a shaft of something directly at Harry. Emily lay frozen stiff on the floor, Mak fluttering above her, rubbing her hands together frantically as she gathered power around her.

The grizzled man smiled wildly. "I knew I was being followed! Sending muggles to test my defences, Death Eaters! I expected more even from you!" The man exclaimed. His glass eye, which on closer inspection didn't look much like glass, was spinning around in its socket like a pinball. His real eye had a mad light trapped within it.

Nylah had long since drilled into Harry how to identify the major mental illnesses on the fly. It was part and parcel of life in the Bunker, where caring for the infirm, the weak and discarded was a part of life. And right now, Harry's brain was screaming PTSD and a touch on the crazy side. Was the thing in the man's hand a gun? There was no blood pooling around Emily's body, so he didn't think she'd been shot. Mak could heal bullet wounds relatively easily – she was quite proud of her healing abilities – so why was she taking so long to revive Emily? She was still fluttering around the older girl. She summoned a sphere of blue light and pushed it between the girl's lips, muttering to herself.

Harry didn't have any time to think about it though, because the next second, another red light shot from the tip of the weapon in the man's hand. Time for some awesomeness. Harry thrust his hand forward, summoning another of his forces, this time the Force of Division. A wall of shimmering space appeared in front of Harry for a moment, absorbing the red light, before vanishing. The man's shock did not last as long as Harry was used to it lasting. Usually, all he had to do was a single trick to leave a person completely dumbfounded, leaving plenty of time to escape. The grizzled man's hesitation lasted for barely a second before more lights were in the air. Crap. Harry twisted his wrist, the Fusion Force surged, and gravity _shifted _around him. He ran up the wall of the hallway, dodging the lights, letting them fly harmlessly into the doorframe behind him. The man shifted his aim, and the wall Harry ran on exploded. He fell to the ground, but a quick jerk of his hand saw a cushion of wind form beneath him. He landed on it, letting the breeze carry him towards the man, who, incredibly, looked more exhilarated now than he had before. Behind him, Emily gasped a ragged breath, waking up. Oh, thank God.

Harry ducked another ray of light – the weapon was definitely not a gun – and went on the offence. A flash of the hand and the gravity around the man was two times, three times stronger than it should be. His shoulders immediately sagged, and his legs began to shake. Harry leapt off the wind current and tackled the grizzled man. Already struggling from the increased gravity, he crashed to the floor, and Harry drew upon another of his forces: The Strength Force. He placed his palm on the man's chest and pushed softly. Then Harry rolled away. Emily, who had risen to shaky feet, grabbed the weapon from the man's hand and turned it around on him.

Harry groaned and pulled himself up, dismissing all the powers except the Strength bond. He took several deep breaths to try and still his rapid heartbeat. James came rushing up the stairs a few moments later.

"What's going…. Oh. Nice work, Harry."

"Cheers." The grizzled man, relieved of the gravity, attempted to rise but found he could not. He was stuck to the floor. He snarled at Harry and tried to thrash, but Harry's bond held him in place. Strength Force, the perfect glue stick. Harry kept all his concentration on the bond. The longer he maintained an act of power, the weaker it became. The same occurred if he tried to do more than one act at once. If he tried to do two things with the same force, both would fail in an instant.

Mak fluttered down, landing on the man's face.

"He's _weird, _Harry. Just like the path outside. He's like us. Different."

"He has a bond? I thought you said you were the only one?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"No. It's not that. I'd be able to sense another of my kind this close. I'm sure I'm the only one left. But he has something. A power of his own. Whatever he is, his power doesn't come from Imagination like ours." Harry frowned, now very concerned.

"Polyjuice! That has to be it! Is that you Malfoy? No. Can't be. Malfoy was never that good…" The man started rambling to himself. Listing names, then giving reasons as to why Harry couldn't be the person he named. Aside from the fact that Harry was quite obviously Harry, and not anyone named Lucius Malfoy. Who even had a name like Lucius Malfoy? Harry stepped back, and Emily and James stepped up next to him. Mak was still prodding the man on the ground – who was obviously oblivious to her presence.

"Anything downstairs?"

James shook his head before taking the weapon from Emily, who still looked shocked. Harry placed a hand on her shoulder.

"You alright?" She blushed, her lips twitching into a slight smile.

"Yeah. It came out of nowhere. I opened the door, and this red light hit me. My whole body locked up stiff, I couldn't move at all, and fell over, paralysed."

"Any idea what this thing is?" James asked, handing the weapon to Harry. It was a stick. An elegantly designed stick, but a stick nonetheless. No trigger or metal that he could see. Harry pointed it at the wall and made a jerking motion. The wood heated beneath Harry's hand, and a shock went up his hand.

"Shit!" He dropped the stick, his whole hand going numb. Mak was right. It was a power, but bizarre, foreign, alien to him.

"Fuck. What is that thing?" He shook his hand several times, then sucked on his fingers one at a time. Slowly, feeling began to return, pins and needles tingling beneath the skin.

"You really don't know, do you?" The trio turned back to the man, who had managed to lift his head to stare at them, thought the rest of his body remained trapped. It was a reminder that they had a timeframe. Harry couldn't maintain an act of power longer than a few minutes at a time. The things he did warped reality, but eventually, natural law always reasserted itself.

"Who are you?" Emily asked, adopting Nylah's no-nonsense voice. She made a pretty good impression.

"None of your business. The real question is, who are you? One of you is obviously magical, but you don't have a wand, or even know what one is. A muggleborn that missed Hogwarts selection maybe? But a strong one, so no, Albus wouldn't have missed that. You've got a lot of control kid. Who taught you?" Harry narrowed his eyes at the man. Magic. Mak didn't like that word. It had bad connotations. Like the word fairy, with an ‘ai'. She hated that.

"We're the ones asking the questions here," he told the man. He was starting to wriggle his feet. "Answer the lady."

The man scoffed, then paused, staring at Harry intently with both eyes. "That mark on your forehead, don't suppose you were born with that were you?"

Harry subconsciously pulled his fringe down over the lightning bolt scar on his forehead, the one that Nylah said made no sense to her.

"Answer the question," Harry said, lowering his voice in an attempt to be menacing.

The man grinned devilishly. "You've got no idea what you're in for kid. The Ministry won't let this go lying down. Now they'll know that there's an unregistered magical out there. The Aurors will be on their way, given you tripped my alarms to get in here. Let me bring you in. I can help you. Train you up a bit, and you'll be top-grade material." Harry flashed a horrified glance to James and Emily, whose faces had gone just as white as Harry's. Call them what you want, cops were cops, and people like Harry, James and Emily – people whom society didn't care two shits about – were eaten alive by cops.

They bolted.

Down the stairs in a flash, Mak flying at their sides. They bounded out the front door, across the footpath, and through the gate. They ran, ran down the sidewalk, ran until they reached the closest Tube station. Only when they'd changed trains three times did they stop to catch their breath.

* * *

"Now _that_ is interesting," Ember said from her position perched atop Ginny's goblet. The flames in her hair had flickered to life, dancing along her ashen black locks. Her eyes, like glowing coals, were fixated on Dumbledore as he sat back down after giving his start of term speech and began speaking to Professor Lupin – the first Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher in living memory to be invited back for a second year.

"Well duh," Ginny said, rolling her eyes as she stood up with the rest of the crowd of students and began to make her way towards the exit. Everyone was whispering in hushed tones to one another, making grandiose gestures and outrageous proclamations.

"That's rubbish. We're seventeen in April! We should be allowed to join," she heard her brother, Fred, exclaim to his friend Angelina. Nobody talked to Ginny, but that was pretty normal. _The Triwizard Tournament._

Ember, invisible to all save Ginny, jumped off the abandoned goblet and drifted through the air, keeping pace with her despite being barely taller than Ginny's hand, her pitch-black dress hanging limply from her form. Ginny always found it odd that Ember didn't have wings. All the pictures and drawings said the faerie had wings. According to Ember, in the ‘Valley' (the faerie homeland) only sky-faerie had wings. Ember couldn't understand where humans had gotten the idea about them all having wings from and found it quite insulting. Of course, she couldn't remember much about the Valley either.

"No! Don't you see! This could be the very thing you've been waiting for! A chance to prove yourself," Ember beamed, gliding in front of Ginny and folding her arms beneath her breasts.

Ginny sighed in frustration. Ember was always trying to get her to be more energised; more excitable. She loved adrenaline, and Ginny had commented several times that Ember behaved more like an excitement-faerie than an ash-faerie. Ember had instead stated that there was no such thing as an excitement-faerie, then become oddly subdued when she realised she couldn't remember why that was.

"I'm serious. Think about it. If we could enter, and win, everybody would look up to you. We could do it too, just a bit of power and ‘_bam!'_ we'd be famous! And then there's the 1000 galleons to think about. Imagine what we could do with 1000 galleons."

"Escape," Ginny whispered hesitantly, as she trailed behind the pack of Gryffindor third years. The bubble of emptiness that surrounded Ginny, devoid of people, was always more pronounced on the stairs. People didn't trust her enough to be on a moving staircase with her. In fact, the group below, of three seventh year girls, lingered at the bottom of the stairs until Ginny had moved onto the next one.

"Exactly. That would be more than enough money. We could buy an apartment, get a job out in the muggle world, away from all the _eyes_." Ember shivered, looking around anxiously. Ginny couldn't help but mimic her. Was that shadow in the doorway across from her deeper than it should be? She couldn't be sure. She hurried past, her sphere of isolation following unbidden. It was just her and Ember, the same as it always had been since her first year.

She reached the Fat Lady's portrait and followed Ron and his friends Dean and Seamus inside. When Ron noticed her following, he practically jumped in fright, stepping around the other two boys to make sure there was something between her and him. She ignored him, just like she ignored everyone else, and climbed up the stairs to her dormitory. She was just so tired. Couldn't Ember see that? When she told the faerie this, she always responded with the same answer, "You're always tired." She supposed it was true, so she'd stopped saying it. She didn't like the sorrow she saw in Ember's eyes when she thought Ginny wasn't looking, so she tried not to be too lethargic when her only friend was around. She wasn't very good at faking.

Ginny pushed open her door, ignoring the four empty four-poster beds all shoved close to one another near the window. She instead made her way to the red tapestry on the empty side of the room. She pulled it aside and made her way into the hollowed-out gap in the wall. She'd made this passage herself over a year ago now. The one place she could hide from the world. Ember's hair glowed softly, providing a little bit of light. The tunnel, if it could be called that, had been meticulously smoothed by Ginny's own gift. Not magic. She tried to avoid using magic now. It felt alien to her. Foreign almost. The power she used came from Ember herself, though how exactly Ember herself couldn't remember. Ember couldn't remember a lot of things. She, much like Ginny herself, was an infant crawling in the dark. They were almost perfect for one another. She reached the end of the small tunnel and crawled onto her bed. This room had once been a broom closet between the boys' and girls' staircases. Ginny didn't know how long ago it had been abandoned, forgotten, and bricked up, but it had been, and by shoving her bed into the cramped space, she could gain a little bit of privacy. Her own little cupboard under the stairs.

"Will you at least think about it?" Ember asked, sitting down on the smoothed bedpost. It had been taller before Ginny snapped off the four posters to get the bed into the cupboard.

"Sure."

Ember breathed a sigh of relief, and the flames in her hair turned bright blue. They always did that when she was happy.

"Yes! I'm going to go spy on Dumbledore, see if I can learn more about this thing." She vanished in a tongue of flame. Ember was very bad at seeing lies for what they were.

She lay down and tried drifting off to sleep, not even bothering to change out of her robes (she only had the one set, having sold the new ones her mum had bought her after the incident and all but one change of muggle clothes to a second-hand shop to get enough money to open a Gringotts account for herself). But try as she might, she struggled to keep her mind from conjuring images of her as a Triwizard Champion. When she did fall to sleep, Tom awaited her.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was sitting comfortably, eating a lemon drop from the bowl on his desk, when Alastor Moody stepped out of the Floo. Fawkes trilled a greeting, and Albus grinned. He did so love guests, and unexpected ones at that.

"Alastor, it's been too long!" he said, gesturing to a chair opposite his desk. Alastor merely grunted.

"Lemon Drop?"

"Albus. I've got something you're going to want to hear." Dumbledore frowned. Not a house call between friends then. Alastor's magical eye spun about in its socket, no doubt searching for intruders.

"What's brought you here at this time of night?"

"My house was broken into by three muggle children." Alastor leaned back in his chair, not taking a lemon drop, real eye fixed on Albus. "Now, as you can imagine, that's not particularly an issue. Wards should have stopped them. Only, they didn't go off. Not one. They just waltzed inside and started pilfering through my stuff. It was as if the wards had been _turned _off, then switched back on again. They didn't take anything, but they were looking for something." That was bizarre. Alastor was incredibly paranoid. There was no way he would have let his wards get slack.

"I confronted the bastards and found to my surprise that one of them wasn't as muggle as he dressed or spoke. No. One of them was magical." Dumbledore's eyes widened.

"He performed some sort of shield charm I've never seen before, a gravity manipulation spell and a full body bind, all cast flawlessly, silently, _and_ without a wand, or a visible spell trail." If Alastor hadn't have coughed, Albus wasn't sure he would have remembered to keep breathing.

"All of that? How old was he?!"

"Fifteen, Sixteen. Not sure. Looked old for his age though. But, and this is the good part, Albus, he had black hair, green eyes and a scar made up of jagged lines crossing his face like a lightning bolt; as if…"

"…his head had been cracked open and fused back together again," Albus whispered softly. He took several deep breaths and glanced towards an old trunk stacked on one of his many bookshelves. Two letters, _JP, _embossed in gold, were visible on the front.

Harry Potter. The boy Tom had tried to kill. Albus thought his plan had been foolproof. Leave the boy with his relatives to protect him from growing up as a legendary hero and developing the ego one would associate with that. If Petunia was a little harsh towards the boy, he didn't particularly care, he'd just come to Hogwarts at eleven slightly more pliable. But no. Something had gone terribly wrong. He glanced toward a framed letter on his wall. A typical Hogwarts admittance letter addressed to "Mr Harry Potter. The Sleeping Bag Furthest to the Right, Row Five, The Bunker, Barking." At the time, he'd gone into a panic. He'd sent all the agents he could to Barking, searching for this mysterious ‘Bunker'. He'd learnt nothing. No sign of Harry at all. No one they interrogated even knew of the existence of such a Bunker. He'd even gone to Privet Drive himself. What he'd found was beyond his comprehension. There was no sign Harry had ever lived there at all. Using his Legilimency, he'd discovered that… _something… _had occurred on Harry's seventh birthday. The event itself had been scoured from every family members' mind. All they could remember was a bright flash of silver light – accidental magic perhaps? Regardless, Harry had run away and never returned. The letter on the wall was the only clue he had, and it had never reached its recipient. Each year he tried to send another, but the Owls – with added tracking charms – had always come back, unable to find the boy.

Now. If what Alastor said was true…

"Your memory if you would Alastor. I need to see everything."

* * *

## Authors Note:

Hi everyone. To our Gemini Curse alumni, welcome back, to our new readers, greetings from Ghost and Miracle!

This story is our final test before we hunker down and complete our original series of novels. The trial of realism. We've written this story – through the veil of fanfiction – to get a grip on the construction, foundation, and execution of magic systems. Our goal here is about creating a believable and well-realised hard magic system. To do this, we employed the three rules outlined by Brandon Sanderson, the author who coined the terms, "hard and soft magic systems".

  1. An author's ability to solve conflict with magic in a satisfying way is DIRECTLY PROPORTIONAL to how well the reader understands said magic.
  2. Weaknesses (also Limits and Costs) are more interesting than powers.
  3. Expand on what you have already before you add something new. If you change one thing, you change the world.

We believe we've succeeded, but ultimately, that decision is up to you, the readers. So, we want to hear what you think. What did we do well? What did we do poorly? We also recommend readers familiar with Sanderson's work to keep an eye out for references we've snuck in, both the obvious ones like the Shards and more subtle ones. It goes without saying that everything in the cosmere and all his other works (including the three rules above), belong to him, just as everything Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. We own nothing but our creativity and a keyboard.


	2. Chapter 2

# Chapter 2:

* * *

_"My research suggests that it is unto them we owe the existence of the Magical Arts. Both the Arts. Without their presence on Earth, I do not think we would have magic at all. The question I now find myself asking is, if these beings are as powerful as I think, what force could have possibly imprisoned them?" _

_From the Diary of Merlinus Caledonensis; 537 Common Era._

* * *

Harry and his friends snuck down the cement-lined ridge, the River Thames limping along ahead of them. Underneath an old footbridge that had definitely seen better days, the trio stopped beside a drainage pipe. James quickly pulled the grate open, and Emily and Harry slipped inside, Mak flying through the metal bars. James closed the cover behind them, and they trudged forward in silence, slowly being absorbed by the darkness. The journey into the Bunker was considered sacrosanct. You weren't to speak or use any lights of any kind while making the trip. Any sound you made inadvertently was to be covered up immediately. It was all for protection and anonymity. If there were no sound from where there should be none, no one would come to investigate. Only a person led into the Bunker could find their way, and there were only three entrances inside at all. One was old sewage pipe through which Harry and his friends currently walked; the second was in the London Underground, hidden in a service tunnel off Barking Station; the last was the real entrance and exit – through the old manor staircase – and as such the one nobody dared use. Eventually, after about ten minutes of walking down the straight pipe in pitch blackness, they turned a corner and a faint gold light-filled Harry's vision. It was a single oil lantern, left illuminated for Harry's team, which would be extinguished by Sammy when she made her way back early the next morning – she would be staking out the House to make sure nobody followed Harry and the others, and to see what the cops – or Aurors, as the one-eyed-man had called them – would do. Harry stepped up to the end of the pipe and ran his hand over the stone. His fingers caught on a thin metal grate in the rock, and he knocked on it three times. A few moments later, a circular section of the wall about a metre tall, dripping and damp, swung inward. Light poured from inside, accompanied by the muted sound of voices. Mak flew inside, and James and Emily followed after. Finally, Harry ducked through, and he nodded to Kaleb, a light-haired thirteen-year-old with Autism who was on shift to man the door that night. He saluted Harry, as many of the younger kids tended to do, and slipped outside to check the oil in the lamp. Keeping the thing lit was an expense, but nothing electric would work in the damp, and none of them could afford to waste the batteries in a torch by leaving the light on all night. Oil was surprisingly easy to get your hands on if you knew where to look. Batteries, not so much.

Harry let out a breath he'd been holding since they fled the man's house. Mak came to a rest on his shoulder, folding her wings around her and leaning her head against his neck. Harry put his hands against the railing and took a second to look out at his world.

It was a World War Two era military bunker designed for protection during the London Blitz, and after, reinforced – as best as the technology of the time could afford – to be Nuclear proof as well. The builder - a wealthy general who'd owned the manor above - had died in the Korean War, and his daughter had inherited the property. She hadn't lived in the house, preferring to stay with her husband, but hadn't sold it. An enterprising thief, Daniel Raymond, had discovered the Sewer entrance and used the Bunker for drug-storage, even adding the train-station entry, so he didn't have to lug his goods up and down the pipe. Ironically, he was caught using that very exit by a janitor in the 80's, who turned him in to the police. Or, more specifically, a dirty cop called Tam Elthor. Tam, who had accrued rather large gambling debts, used the drugs to pay off his debtors. He burned the rest. Tam had then forgotten about the Bunker for a good five years. Until he was arrested for a crime he actually hadn't committed. Let free by his sympathetic partner, Tam had gone to hide in the Bunker, only to find that a group of illegal refugees fleeing deportation had found the place first. In the nearly two decades since then, the Bunker had become a haven for the lost, the discarded, and the hopeless. They had a few contacts with sympathetic outsiders, two nurses, a couple of cops from a few different precincts, even an electrician.

The Bunker itself was quite large, about the size of a football field, sectioned off into several different areas by walls and curtains added later on from salvaged sheets. A metal gangway ran a ring around the facility providing access to the dingy electric lights hanging from the roof – most of them had turned yellow with age. They had electricity thanks to the old thief, who'd tapped a nearby underground cable, and the original plumbing still worked reasonably well. The well, which dominated the communal space – comprised of several ratty couches set around a large fire pit and a few old wooden tables used for dining and meetings – hadn't worked for some time, the water trapped below by debris jostled free by-passing trains and the passage of time. Harry had fixed that himself – it was one of the first times he'd ever used his gifts. The second most important thing in the Bunker he'd done, in his opinion at least, was the spa he'd carved out of the ground in the corner of the Bunker, kept perpetually powered by geothermal energy from very deep beneath them. Opposite the junction with the spa was the kitchen. It was a modest kitchen, and by modest he meant nowhere near good enough to feed everyone in the Bunker in a reasonable time – they had allotted dinner times for everyone to compensate. They had three fridges… well, they had two working fridges, the third one they used as a pantry; two ovens, and a hot plate – gas-powered (gas, another easy thing to steal from service stations). Aside from their prized bathroom – powered, thanks to Harry, by the same geothermal source as the spa – the rest of the space was taken up by bedrolls, sleeping bags and blankets strewn across the floor. The three bedrooms, separated from the main area by walls from the original design, had been repurposed into a gender-specific room each, and Nylah's medical room – not that they had much in the way of supplies, but she made do. To Harry and the three-hundred or so homeless people who lived here, it was home.

Harry followed James and Emily down the rickety metal stairs of the gangway and down to the ground floor. Picking their way between sleepers, they eventually reached the firepit, which crackled faintly in the relative silence of midnight. The only voices came from the four figures sitting on the couches around the fire.

Bran Alvere was a weedy man, but then, most of them were weedy. He was tall and had jet black hair that was starting to grey. He had a haunted look in his eyes typical of war veterans. Bran had been a prisoner of war in the first Gulf War. He'd come home to find his father and brother dead and his cancer-riddled girlfriend pregnant. Most would have committed suicide at all that horror, not Bran. He had a daughter, named after her long since deceased mother, to live for. On the couch beside him was old Tam Elthor. The grizzled ex-cop, his thin grey hair and long since receded hairline belaying his age, hadn't seen sunlight in years, and the paleness of his skin was a testament to that. Nylah said he didn't have long now. Nylah sat in a single armchair nursing a cup of coffee. She still wore her nurses' scrubs; she must have just gotten back from her shift at the hospital. Nylah was a young woman in her early twenties with black hair, though not as dark as Bran's, meticulously braided in a single thick strand down her back. She'd wanted to be a medical researcher, even gotten into a prestigious university to do it; the girl was a genius, no doubt about it. Until a drunk driver left her the only survivor of a car accident, killing both her parents and leaving her with a permanent limp. Unable to pay her parents mortgage, she'd been forced out onto the streets, unable to afford the expensive tuition. Now she lived in the Bunker and worked as a poorly paid nurse in a shady part of town patching up druggies, taking care of teenage binge drinkers, and the survivors of muggings. The fourth and final member of the Bunker's hodgepodge leadership group was Adam Cauthon, a blonde-haired man in his early forties with a mischievous look about him, sitting in a rusty wheel-chair. Adam had been thrown out of home at sixteen when he admitted to liking men. Since then he'd drifted from odd-job to odd-job, learning what he could of various trades. He was a reasonably skilled plumber, and a passable electrician, but his real passion was theatre. He'd spent years trying to get work at any of the various shows and plays around London. Finally, five years ago, he'd gotten his big break, only to have it snatched away from him in a terrorist attack which left him paralysed. Unconscious with no one that cared for him, his landlord had cancelled his rent, and he'd lost the opportunity he'd been craving for his entire life – there's no such thing as an actor in a wheelchair after all.

A bunch misbegotten wastes, cast adrift, forgotten, uncared for. That was what they were. What they all were. But they had each other, and Harry thought that was better than all the riches in the world.

"How'd it go?" Bran asked, catching sight of them. The trio sat down together on a vacant couch, while Mak dozed on Harry's shoulder.

"You want the good news first or the bad?" James asked, wearily. Nylah groaned.

"The good," Adam begged, leaning forward as best he could.

"He's not a predator. There were no girls, boys or any paraphernalia in his house at all."

All four of them breathed sighs of relief.

"And the bad?" Tam pressed, his voice croaking.

Emily and James looked at Harry, but he said nothing. He was too busy staring into the flames, watching them dance across the wood, yet another thing that was easy to steal. It really did amaze him the things that were easy to steal and the things that weren't. When he said nothing, Emily took up the story. She explained about the old man, the stick-like weapon he'd used that shot bolts of energy, one of them leaving her paralysed.

"Harry? Do you know anything?" Bran asked.

"No," he whispered, "Nothing at all. I've told you my story. Everything I know about myself. I was dumped at the Dursley's by persons unknown, I don't know my parents' names or what they looked like. If Mak hadn't come and found me, I'd probably been beaten to death, and my corpse shoved in the cupboard under the stairs until the smell got so bad Aunt Petunia ordered my uncle to throw me in the landfill."

"But surely there's something… If this man is like you, then maybe you aren't as alone as you thought," Nylah tried. Mak began to snore softly on his shoulder.

"Mak says he wasn't like us. Similar, but different. She doesn't understand it any more than I do." Nylah sighed. She'd spent so long trying to find a cause, or a source, for Harry's strange abilities. But between their limited access to resources and the sheer breadth of mythology that had grown up around the concept of Fairies, it was virtually impossible to learn anything useful. Emily placed a hand on Harry's arm and squeezed. He gave her a smile in thanks.

"Well. At the very least. We now know there's some new threat out there. People who have powers like yours, if not quite the same. We'll see what Sammy has to report in the morning, for now, get some sleep, all of you," Tam said, before grabbing hold of his cane and pushing himself up. Nylah was at his side in an instant, helping him out of the circle of couches and off to his own bed. Harry stood up, bade the others goodnight, and made his way towards his sleeping bag – an eleventh birthday present from Bran – tucked away against the far wall. He gently lifted Mak off his shoulder and lay her down in the tiny bed he'd made for her. It wasn't awe-inspiring. A bubble wrap mattress wrapped in cling-wrap to stop the squishing sounds, with a blanket made from the sleeve of one of his shirts, and a pillow of cotton buds stuffed inside a baby's sock. He'd never forget the look of absolute glee on her face when she'd seen it for the first time. They'd only been together for about six months back then, still living in a nook under a tree in the national forest land near Little Whinging. How far they'd come since then. She'd refused any attempt on Harry's part to replace the bed with a new one.

He tucked the blanket up to Mak's chin, squeezed himself inside the sleeping bag, and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Harry awoke the next morning to the sound of hushed voices. He groaned and ran a hand through his hair, blinking rapidly to dispel the haze of sleep.

"I don't like this," Bran's voice whispered.

"Sammy, look me in the eye, would you?" Nylah… Sammy! She was back. It must have been morning. He threw off his sleeping bag and climbed to his feet, rapidly pulling his threadbare grey shirt over his head.

"Harry?" Mak whispered, waking from her own slumber, "What is it?"

"Sammy's back." Harry didn't wait for Mak, she'd catch up when she was ready; instead, he hopped over sleeping people, or those in the process of waking. He reached the common with the couches, and the group of about twenty parted to let him through. One of the few benefits of being known for your awesomeness. Bran, Nylah, Adam, Tam, Emily and James were standing in a tight circle around Sammy – a cute red-head Irish girl who was freakishly tall – who was sitting in Nylah's armchair. She had a dazed look about her, and she was swaying slightly. _No… _He'd seen that look on too many of his friends. Sammy wouldn't… no, he wouldn't believe it. She wouldn't waste rations on something like that, and she certainly wouldn't do it while she was on a mission. Missions were Sammy's life!

He pushed into the ring and knelt down next to Nylah, who was shining a light in Sammy's eyes.

"Heart-rate is normal, so it's not a stimulant. Skin isn't clammy, so not alcoholic. A hallucinogen perhaps?" She muttered to herself.

"Not a hallucinogen," Harry said, staring at Sammy's glassy eyes. "If it was that, she wouldn't have made it through the tunnel."

"Agreed. Emily! Fetch my kit. James, freshwater, quickly as you can. Someone else get a cloth." Emily, James and Mary – a nine-year-old raised in the Bunker after being found, abandoned, at only a few months old – all hurried away. Mak chose that moment to fly down and hover in the air, observing Sammy's distant expression. Sammy turned her head, and her eyes fixed with razor accuracy on Harry, all glassiness vanishing.

She tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat, and she broke into a coughing fit.

"Sammy! Careful now, relax, relax…" Nylah said, grabbing the other girl by the shoulders and attempting to ease her back into the chair.

"Harry! She'd been touched! I can feel foreign power in her mind!" Mak screamed.

Sammy chose that moment to finally push the word in her throat out.

"Run," She whimpered, before her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she collapsed into the couch.

Everything seemed to happen at once. Nylah let out a strangled cry, Harry jumped backward, already preparing a bolt for the nearest exit, dozens of _‘crack!' _sounds, like an engine kick-back, echoed throughout the Bunker. A hand grabbed Harry's shoulder. He jerked his elbow back into the person behind him and grabbed the hand with his opposite arm. Static surged along his arm and into the person's hand. The next second, he jerked upwards with a scream, hurtling towards the roof – gravity pulling him in the opposite direction. Only then did Harry spin around. That's when the screaming started.

Eleven people, twelve counting the person now stuck to the roof, all wearing flowing red robes and feathered caps, had appeared out of thin air in a circle around the firepit and the gathered crowd. All of them had the shafts of wood in their hands, and all of them were pointed at Harry.

"DOWN!!" He screamed, then, in defiance of his own statement, he jumped up into the air, the Fusion Force pulling him in the same direction as the flying man. Bolts of red light flew into the air, but the people of the Bunker were used to being afraid for their lives. Anyone standing dropped on Harry's command, and only those closest to the red lights were hit – some four people by Harry's rapid count. If the cracks didn't wake up those who slept, the shouts and cries of terror certainly did. Within seconds, pandemonium engulfed the entire refuge as people bolted towards the closest exits, regardless of who the threat was. A threat was a threat, and to people on the edge of society, a threat could come from anywhere and anyone. Harry dropped back to the ground, using the crowd to hide him from the people in red.

"Stop! Muggles! I demand you stop at once!" Harry didn't know which red-cloak said the words first, but they were quickly repeated by several others.

"Harry Potter! Surrender yourself immediately."

Shit. These must be the people the one-eyed-man had mentioned. The Aurors. Who the fuck was that guy?

Mak flew up beside Harry, a look of utter panic on her face.

"They're all _wrong, _Harry. It… it makes me want to vomit!"

"Sammy?"

"Fine. She snapped out of whatever that other power was. She was being controlled. They must have found her scouting the building and sent her in here so they could find you."

"But who are they?!"

"I don't know." Harry cast a furtive glance over his shoulder. Three of the red-cloaks had Nylah, Adam, Tam and Sammy at stick-point by the couches. Another four were firing bolts of light in all directions, felling as many escapees as they could. He caught a glimpse of James, and crazy Martin before they fell to the ground, stunned. _At least they aren't dead._

A hand slipped into his, and he jolted, preparing to banish a red cloak to the roof again. But the hand's owner was Emily. Her face was ash white, and she was shaking like a leaf, but her eyes were firm. On his other side, Bran, moving far faster than Harry had ever seen him move before, pushed up to them. This stream of people was heading for the train station entrance. This many people coming out of that entrance? Dangerous. If somebody saw…

He couldn't let himself think about it. The crowd swept him away, and he tried to hide as best he could.

"There! North exit!" The voice came from above, and Harry groaned. Of course, the one on the roof could see him from the vantage point. The vantage point Harry had given him. Fantastic. He and Emily pushed through the door and into a short earthy tunnel. They ran, people in front and behind them, for less than thirty seconds, before they burst back into the light. The door to the service tunnel was already open on the other side, and Harry could see a station cop being jostled by the crowd of homeless people, trying to control the outflow. If they waited any longer, he'd see the entrance.

Harry made a split-second decision. He pushed Emily and Bran behind him, and pulled the stone up out of the ground, using the Strength Force to infuse it to the roof, covering the door and completely hiding it from discovery. The people behind would be trapped inside, but Harry had a feeling they would be fine. Those Aurors wanted one thing and one thing only. Him. They didn't care about the people of the Bunker. Oh god, what had he got himself into? He had been trying to do the right bloody thing, showed where _that _got you. Hunted by idiots in red capes like the Superman Corps.

Emily and Bran kept Harry's head down, Mak fluttering beside them, frantically looking behind as they pushed through the crowd. The marshal was shouting for order, but everyone was ignoring him. They burst out the end of the tunnel and onto the platform, still underground. The station had concrete flooring, but the walls were all white tilling, with various posters and advertisements stuck to them. Several onlookers were gawking at the Bunker residents as they fled. The train into London was opposite them, and dozens of people were cramming into the compartments. A flashing sign advertised another train, leaving on a different line in the same direction, departing in a few minutes – another dozen escapees were filling that way too.

Five more _‘cracks!'_ echoed through the station, and five red cloaks appeared from nothing, stalking towards Harry with determined expressions. Who were these people!?

"Up the stairs! Quickly!" Bran exclaimed, pulling Emily and Harry up the escalators towards the ground level. The red-cloaked people followed, jets of light filling the air. Screams filled the stairs as people panicked and began to bolt. Harry pushed Emily and Bran behind him and thrust out his palms. A wall of Division Force appeared – like a faint shimmer in the air – absorbing the incoming lights. They Aurors hesitated for a second, and a ‘_bang!' 'bang!' _that Harry would recognise anywhere filled his ears. Bran had pulled a pistol from… somewhere… and had fired at the red cloaks. One went down, the other four created shimmering transparent barriers like Harry's own, though the bullets were deflected, not absorbed. Harry pushed both hands forward and wriggled his fingers. The static surged, and eight thin bolts of electricity jumped from his fingers, arching down towards the Aurors. One went down, one dodged before vanishing with a crack, the last knelt beside his colleague. Harry, gasping for breath, pulled Emily down beside him as Bran spun around. This time the bang and the crack were indistinguishable. But the thump was not. They reached the top of the escalator, and ignored the bleeding man on the ground, trying to clutch his stick. They raced out with the screaming bystanders as a policeman in riot gear rushed towards them. Bran ditched his gun with a practised flick of the wrist. They stayed with the panicked rush, keeping Harry's head down as they bolted. Mak was clinging to Emily's blonde hair, which was flapping behind her as they ran.

They reached the exit and charged into the open air. Police tried to stop and marshal them, demanding to know what happened, but very few listened.

Just when Harry thought they were home free, the other seven red-cloaks appeared on the road, including the one Harry had stuck to the roof.

"Potter, stop this. We don't want to hurt anybody. We just want to help you." It was the man he'd stuck to the roof. He was a tall man, dark-skinned, with a bald head and a stern face. Very cop like.

"You can't have him! Leave us alone!" Emily snapped, putting herself in front of Harry.

"No. Go. I'll deal with them," Harry said softly, pulling Emily around. She had tears in her eyes, though Harry couldn't guess why.

"Go. Get out of here. They want me, not you. Save the Bunker, it matters more than I do." He shoved Emily towards Bran, who nodded to him in respect. Bran then pulled Emily away. The cops had finally gotten their tasers out of their asses and pointed them at the Aurors.

"Drop your weapons and put your hands on your heads!" Two of the red cloaks actually laughed at the suggestion. Harry narrowed his eyes and glanced to Mak. She'd transformed her dress into a suit of armour, like a knight. In her right hand, she held a sword. Harry wasn't sure what she thought she was going to do with the thing, but the display was impressive at least.

"Butt kicking time?" Mak asked quietly.

"Butt kicking time," Harry confirmed. The lead Auror, seemingly deciding that Harry was going to "come quietly", took a step forward. An action that put his foot on the metal covering of a storm drain on the side of the road. What an idiot. Harry snapped his fingers.

The sky darkened in an instant, and a lightning bolt connected with the metal grate, frying the man standing on it. Oh, the sweet versatility of the Charge Force. The next second he was twisting his arm around his head. The static churned, and Harry thrust the hand forward. A shockwave of sound crashed over the Aurors, still frozen in their shock. Two of them dropped the sticks, hands going to their ears. Harry needed no further openings. He ran forward, employing one of his absolute favourite tricks. He pulled at the Strength Force, and used it not to bind himself to the ground, but to decrease the force keeping him on its surface. He still weighed the same, it was just that Harry no longer had to worry about the most pesky of natural forces: Friction.

He skidded forward with no resistance to his passage. He dropped to his back so that he was lying down as he slid past the guy he'd electrocuted, underneath the legs of the next person, before finally grabbing hold of the last guy in the line. Using his momentum, he swung himself around on the guy's leg, propelling himself in the opposite direction. He released the Strength Force, and Friction reasserted itself, slowing him to a halt, but not before Harry used Fusion to reverse gravity on two goons as he brushed past. Both of them shot into the air with squawks of fright. The person he'd swung around pointed the stick at him and Harry flicked two fingers at the man. Instantly, he vanished, swallowed by a shimmering glow before it faded away. Division to tuck the man into his own pocket dimension, unable to affect anything in the real world until the effects wore off. A handy skill that one. That left two Aurors undealt with. Both blasted him with lights, thinking him a sitting duck lying on the ground. They were wrong.

The static turned to burning heat grinding inside him, and Harry released a breath of sizzling air, expanding outwards and drifting towards the Aurors from his place on the floor. As soon as the lights passed through the air, they broke apart, disintegrating into nothingness. The Decay Force – opposite of Strength – was definitely the most dangerous power that Harry could draw upon. The wave continued towards the two, and both performed their disappearing act in fear. How were they doing that!?

Harry didn't have time to ponder it. The cracks indicated their reappearances – if they could do that silently, he'd be in trouble – and Harry jumped into the air, decreasing Gravity's hold on him. He flew upwards and crossed his arms, giving them his best death glare as he hovered above them. Mak flew through the air, becoming visible as a glowing blue light that danced around him. Harry could guess that his eyes were glowing green. Extended usage of his powers did that. Both red cloaks stared at him in awe.

"I don't suppose this means you'll leave me alone now, will you?" As if to punctuate his question, the first person he'd sent hurtling into the sky came screaming back to the ground. Harry frowned. He'd assumed they'd just teleport away. Maybe they couldn't use the teleportation while affected by Fusion? Oh, no, there they went. The two falling had seemingly realised they could vanish again now that Harry's power had worn off, as they quickly teleported away. They did not reappear. Hm, cowards. Harry glanced towards the man he'd electrocuted, the one in charge. He was slowly pulling himself up, smoke curling off his body. Once reality reset itself, the physical injuries caused by the lightning bolt would vanish if he hadn't died instantly. However, the shock, exhaustion and mental effects caused would remain. It was like the rock barrier he'd erected in the tunnel. It would stay in that shape because he'd fused it to the roof. It now _was_ the wall. Therefore, it wouldn't simply fade away when his power faded from it. Finally, the person – who was actually a woman – he vanished with the Division Force reappeared. She fell to her knees and spewed. The policemen and women were staring at him in awe. In the distance, Harry could see Emily and Bran hiding behind a cop car near the edge of the perimeter. He nodded in their direction, and the pair disappeared into an alley adjacent to the station.

Then, a slow clapping echoed through the carpark. He spun around and found himself floating above Gandalf. Or more accurately, a really bad Gandalf cosplayer, because Gandalf would never have worn bright purple robes with sequins on it. He had a big bushy beard and wore half-moon glasses over his eyes. On his head was a tall pointy hat, the same colour as his clothes.

"Who are you people?!" Harry called. This hippie guy must be the leader. Mak stopped her dance and fluttered in the air next to Harry's head, invisible to everyone but him once more.

"We are your family Harry, and we have been searching for you for many years now." The old man's voice had a musical quality to it.

"Harry," Mak whispered, somewhat dazed, "he is like them, but there is also one of me near, with him. A faerie! I'm not alone." Then she frowned.

"No… no… I'm wrong, I think? I'm not sure. No. No, he does not have a bond like ours, Harry. But… I can sense one of my kind near to his person. He should not have our power, not without the bond, but be careful." She sounded very perplexed.

"You attacked my family!" Harry said, anger mixing with the exhaustion as it tried to overcome the adrenaline flooding him.

"Your real family, Harry. I know your mother and father, they were good friends of mine. If you would just come down, I can tell you about them." Harry's heart lurched. His parents. NO. He forced himself to pull the Bunker to the front of his mind. His friends; James and Emily; Bran, Nylah, Adam and Tam… what had happened to them? Were they trapped even now? Being rounded up with no hope of fighting back against these… whatever they were.

"My _family._ What are you doing to them?"

"Nothing at all. They will have no memory of our arrival here today. It will be as if none of this ever happened." Harry freaked. _Memory wipes! _That was like science fiction shit. But given what he could do, he believed the Gandalf lookalike. And that meant he wasn't going near them. Sammy _had_ been mind-controlled. They could do the same to him.

Harry flicked his hands down and shot upwards, Gravity reversing on its axis, pushing him and Mak away from the ground at lightning speed.

Gandalf was fast. A stick shot from his sleeve into his hand and dozens of lights flashed towards him. Harry forged a shield of Division, but lagged, losing speed and energy as he tried to control two forces at once. The lights all vanished, but Harry came practically to a stop. His adrenaline was gone now, everything was about panic. He started to slip back towards the ground. God, but the guy was strong. Lights of dozens of colours slammed into the shield, each one vanishing into non-existence. And they just kept coming! It began taking more and more of his concentration. His grip on the Fusion Force began to weaken. He started staggering.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!!!!!!!

Desperate, he banished the wall of Division towards Gandalf and renewed his gravity boost. Harry caught a glimpse of the barrier failing under the onslaught as he rose, if slower than before, trying to dodge the lights that flung towards him unhindered now. Higher, higher… surely they couldn't follow him like this.

"Harry!" A flash of flame erupted beside him, sharp talons grabbed Harry's shoulder, he screamed and was engulfed in fire.


	3. Chapter 3

# Chapter 3:

_“We dream to escape, we dream to let go,_  
To feel what it's like walking streets of gold.  
Turn grey skies blue, turn hope into truth,  
Yeah, some days, sometimes all you can do is;  
Dream from small towns to big city lights,  
Turn a heartbreak into love at first sight.  
When we look at the world and we don't like what we see,  
We close our eyes and we dream.”

_Believed to be from the Prophecy of Dreamers. Compiled by Morgan Evans; Earth, 21st Century._

* * *

Harry was engulfed in terrifying pain. His whole body was on fire, his blood boiling, his head threatening to split open. It was the single most agonising experience he'd ever had. It put everything the Dursley's ever did to him to shame. Any wound he'd ever suffered was a fantasy compared to the excruciating burning in his bones. He screamed his throat raw.

Harry had no idea how long he wreathed in agony, but as quickly as it began, it vanished.

"Harry!" Harry pulled his eyes open. Mak lay on the floor, vomiting blue mist into the air. Her hair and the tips of her dress were smouldering.

Harry shook his head and took in his surroundings. He was lying on the floor in the middle of a large circular room. Bookcases and oil paintings lined the walls, and in the centre of the room was a large mahogany desk covered in silver devices. In the corner of the room was a wooden perch with a majestic bird of red and gold feathers upon it. The roof and what he thought might be another story above him, were obscured by a silvery mist.

Harry tried to stand, but the rattle of metal pulled him back. Metal manacles had been locked around his arms and legs, connected to chains embedded within the stone floor.

Harry tried to awaken the static within… nothing happened. He tried again, but there was just nothing there. No static surge. No power. Just nothing.

"Aluminium." Harry stared up as Gandalf stepped out of the mist and into the office. He sat down on in the seat behind his desk and stared at Harry over his glasses. He had an odd twinkle in his eye Harry found quite disturbing.

"I have spent a great deal of time researching powers such as yours Mr Potter, and you will find that you and your brethren across the universe all share a similar weakness." He said nothing more, merely staring at Harry with a calculating gaze. This man was very dangerous.

"Harry…" Mak whispered from the floor, "there's more in this room. Faeries… but they've been trapped, imprisoned, unable to dream or even think for themselves. There's at least three in here. Maybe more, I'm not sure." If Harry had reason to dislike the man before, now he was about ready to punch him in the face. The door in the wall behind them opened, and the man with the peg leg and the glass eye stepped inside, a wicked smile on his face. Behind him was the black man – the leader of the Aurors that Harry had electrocuted – an elderly woman in green robes with a pointy green hat, and a man in expensive-looking black robes and a matching top hat.

"Ah. Harry, allow me to introduce to you Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt," Gandalf pointed to the black man, who had a scowl on his face as he stared at Harry, "Professor McGonagall," The old woman smiled softly at him, "Alastor Moody, whom you've already met," the grizzled man grunted, "And Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge." Fudge, the expensive man, didn't wait for Gandalf to finish speaking his name. He rushed over and took Harry's hand in his, rapidly shaking it over and over, making the chains clink. Mak hissed, flying up in the and landing protectively on Harry's head.

"So very nice to finally meet you, Mr Potter. So dreadful what happened to you, and your parents. My deepest condolences and my greatest thanks, on behalf of myself and the entire Ministry for vanquishing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." Harry checked the man's face for signs of drug overdose.

"Hm. Finally, someone shows us the respect we deserve! I like him." Mak proclaimed, standing on Harry's head, hand's on hips, chest thrust forward. "Just one quick question, who did we supposedly vanquish?" Harry hadn't vanquished anyone, he was quite sure of that. The man was definitely high on something.

"Albus. Surely the chains are unnecessary. He's just a boy, and an underfed one at that. He needs to be taken to the hospital wing…" the old woman, McGonagall, said, glaring at Gandalf.

"The only place he's going is prison. He assaulted twelve Aurors and wounded most of them. Those manacles are staying on until I see him dumped in Azkaban," Kingsley the Auror said.

"Over my dead body!" Mak creamed, summoning a sword from mist and brandishing it at the man. Harry wasn't sure whether to be glad or disappointed that none of them could see her.

"Ha! He took out an entire Auror team without breaking a sweat! You don't throw someone like that in Azkaban, you fucking recruit him!" Moody barked.

"He will certainly not be going anywhere near that horrible place!" McGonagall snapped.

"That's not your decision Minerva," Shacklebolt said, eyes narrowing dangerously.

"No, it's mine," Fudge said, standing up straight and fixing his hat, "and I say he will not be going there. He is a celebrity. He will be trained here in Hogwarts, as should have been his right on his eleventh birthday. I will see the Wizarding World's debt to this boy paid, Kingsley, and nothing you say will change that."

"I want a guard on him twenty-four-seven," Shacklebolt said.

"I assure you that won't be necessary, Kingsley. The bindings will keep his excess power contained until he has better control of it," Gandalf said.

Harry snorted, his first real contribution to the conversation. Everyone turned towards him, as if suddenly reminded that he was there.

"Perhaps one of you would care to explain just why the fuck you think you can just go about attacking and kidnaping people who just want to be left alone?" he asked flatly.

Fudge bent down beside him and tried to muss his hair like he was five. Mak stabbed him with her sword. It dissipated to mist when it touched his skin, but he did get a sharp electric shock, as evidenced by the way he jerked his hand back.

"Harry. I understand everything might be a bit confusing for you right now, but you need to understand. You're a wizard, and you've been out in the world all alone for far too long. We've been searching for you for many years, but the Muggles kept you hidden. Now you're back with us where you can uncover your talents and join our society." Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"What I _understand _is that I was kidnapped against my will, and am now shackled to the fucking floor. At the very least this is unlawful incarceration, at worst you guys are some sort of wacko cult group trying to take over the world. Actually, given how everything is going to shit at the moment, I don't think many would notice if you did take over the world…" he trailed off, actually thinking about that for a second.

"Oh, move over Minister. Let me handle this." McGonagall shoved Fudge out of the way and knelt in front of Harry, staring into his eyes. Harry was shocked to see actual tears in her eyes.

"You really do look like them. Just like your father, but your eyes… Lily's."

Harry couldn't help the sentence that followed from slipping out. Even Mak had gone silent.

"Her name was Lily?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly. _Stupid!_ First rule of the street: never, ever, let anyone have something over you. The look of amazement in her eyes was replaced by fury in an instant. She turned towards the men and barked in a voice that brokered no-nonsense.

"OUT! ALL OF YOU OUT! I'm going to talk to him alone."

"Not going to happ…"

"Kingsley!" Gandalf snapped. The Auror stopped midsentence. Gandalf stood up from behind his desk and walked towards the door, ushering Fudge, Shacklebolt and Moody out the door, which he closed softly behind them. McGonagall turned back to Harry, the tears returning to her eyes. She sat down on the ground, arms folded in her lap, and stared at Harry. Harry followed suit, sitting on the hard stone. Maybe she'd give him some bloody answers.

"Who are you people? Where am I? Why won't you let me leave?" he asked, trying to keep his voice as controlled as possible. Rule #4: Emotional people are easier to scam.

"My name is Minerva McGonagall. I'm a teacher here at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. This is the Headmaster's office in Hogwarts Castle. The school, and the hundreds of students who attend, are below us participating in their lessons right now." Mak jumped off Harry's head and floated between him and McGonagall.

"She's telling the truth, Harry. There is no lie in her eyes."

Harry let out a long breath and slumped his shoulders.

"What kind of school? You aren't crazy people, are you? Like, flat earthers?" McGonagall laughed.

"No. We are not crazy. At least most of us aren't, as most humans aren't. We're witches and wizards, a secret society of people born with the ability to use magic." To emphasise her point, she drew a stick from her sleeve and created a giant fluffy lion from thin air.

"Impressive," Mak said.

"This skill is called Conjuration. You'll learn it as part of my subject, Transfiguration, while you're here." Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Transfiguration huh. Never done anything like that before." McGonagall flicked her stick and the lion transformed into a golden statue in the exact same shape.

"This is my wand. It's a tool we use to make magic easier to use. You've never used one before?" A wand. Well, he supposed it fit with the theme.

"Never."

"Incredible," McGonagall said, vanishing the statue and returning her wand to her sleeve, "from what Albus described you doing, you must be very powerful to do all that without one."

Harry said nothing, and McGonagall sighed.

"While the Minister could have handled his… introduction… with more tact, what he said is nonetheless true. We have been searching for you since you were eleven years old and your letter came back unopened."

"Letter?" McGonagall ran a hand through her hair, "I'll get to that in a bit. The first thing you must, unfortunately, learn is who you are. What… what do you know of your past?"

Harry shrugged. "I was dumped at the Dursley's after my parents died. That's it."

"Your relatives never told you anything?"

Harry laughed. A dark and haunting laugh.

"I thought my name was Freak until pre-school. No, they never told me a thing, lest it was to do some chore or shut myself into the cupboard under the stairs because they didn't want to see my face," Harry told her sourly, rolling his eyes. McGonagall slumped, fresh tears rolling down her rosy cheeks.

"I told you, Albus… I told you…" she whispered to herself.

"Gandalf… um… Albus, the old bearded dude, he was the one who sent me to the Dursleys?" Harry asked softly, a razor edge sliding into his voice. His hands clenched to fists.

"It was to protect you. From those who would stop at nothing to kill you. There was a powerful shield, tied to your blood, on the house. So long as you could call it home, you would be safe there. No person or creature with a hint of magical blood could get near you. I tried to check up on you multiple times myself – I was one of the few who knew where you were – but I couldn't even step foot on Privet Drive. One of your parents' best friends, Remus Lupin, our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, couldn't even enter the suburb. He was not happy when he found out. But Albus, Professor Dumbledore, he said you were fine and under powerful protection. So, we stopped checking. There was no point. If only I hadn't…"

"How long?" she asked finally, wiping away her tears with the sleeve of her robes, "How long were you on your own?"

"On my own? Not long. I was found by some people after I ran from the Dursleys, they took care of me. Taught me to read, and to write, sort of. I don't claim to be very good at it. Paper is a luxury the homeless can rarely afford." Then McGonagall pulled him into a hug of all things. Harry resisted, with no small degree of effort, the urge to jerk away from her. It was instinctual, the flinch. A response bred into people like him. The older people in the Bunker tried to break the habit in the new blood that came through. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. It might have been a ‘threat response' as Tam called it, but he was just as right in saying it was rude, useless and discouraged trust and conversation. Plus, it had a way of setting people on edge. Harry agreed and maintained strict mental discipline to prevent him from flinching whenever anyone so much as brushed his skin.

He let himself relax into it. As much as he could with chains on his legs and feet that is. Eventually, McGonagall pulled back and had to wipe away her tears again.

"I owe you a story then. A story that starts decades ago now, with a boy named James Potter, and a girl called Lily Evans…"

* * *

Ginny stood in the Gryffindor Common Room, staring at the Daily Prophet article that had been pinned to the notice board. The only two people in the entire school who'd come near her, her twin brothers Fred and George, stood beside her, equally as dumbfounded. The picture in the middle of the page? A shot of a boy Ginny's age, or a year older she supposed, floating in the middle of the air eyes blazing with green light. Another light, this one blue, zoomed around him. The upper third of his face was covered by a scar-like a tree of lightning, lines pure white. His clothes were threadbare, worn as badly as Ginny's own, his shoes were covered in tape, and his jeans looked a size too big. He looked amazing. Like a god descending to Earth. Just watching the green light flare around his eyes, the way his messy hair rustled in the wind, was enough to make her stomach flutter.

The headline read: _Boy-Who-Lives Returns! First Public Appearance in London._

The article, written by none other than Rita Skeeter, went on to speculate about why the famous Harry Potter, so far elusive for most of his life, had returned now. Information about what he had been doing in London was being kept tight to the Ministry's chest, but everyone agreed the Aurors were involved. Had Harry been working with the Aurors all this time instead of coming to Hogwarts? Was he so powerful that he had already learnt everything she and the other students were being taught? She had wanted to meet him so bad that day when she came to see Ron off on Platform Nine and Three Quarters. But he hadn't been there. He hadn't even shown up at Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore said it was because he was on a secret mission. She'd thought he might be lying at the time. An eleven-year-old on a secret mission? It had sounded too much like the Boy-Who-Lived storybooks, the ones her father had explained to her weren't actually real the day before they'd gone to the train. She'd balled for most of the day before coming to the conclusion that she was going to try and be his friend regardless. After all, a person without parents needed friends, right?

Not so much, according to this. The guy could fly! And if Skeeter was to be believed, he also had enhanced speed, strength, could do wandless magic, silent casting _and _he could control the elements. No wonder he'd killed Voldemort as a baby. He was just that awesome.

"Well, turns out…"

"…the storybooks weren't so far off," Fred and George said. Finishing each other's sentences was a hallmark of theirs.

"Yeah," Ginny breathed.

Fred slapped her on the back.

"What's a matter Gin Gin? Got ourselves a bit of a crush?"

"Duh. You'd have to be blind not to. Look at him!" The shirt he wore was slightly small on his frame, and one of the sleeves was torn. Maybe he'd been on an undercover mission? Regardless, you could easily see the biceps he was packing through the photo, even if he did seem to be a bit scrawnier than one would expect.

"Can't fault that logic," George admitted. The twins turned away and left the common room, leaving Ginny to continue staring at the photo. Ember sat on her shoulder, squinting at the picture, uncharacteristically quiet.

Ginny stood there for a long while, rereading the article over and over. Something didn't feel right about it. Like she was missing something important. She stood still, staring, until Professor Flitwick's squeaky voice echoed through the room – curtesy of some spell most likely.

"Students. There is to be an announcement tonight at dinner. Don't dally!"

Ginny and Ember, with their customary bubble of isolation, made their way down to the Great Hall with the rest of the school. The whispers on everyone's lips were either one of two things. Would the announcement have to do with the Triwizard Tournament? Or would it be something about Harry Potter's return?

The Great Hall sat in complete silence, all the teachers in attendance except for Professor McGonagall. Ginny took her customary seat near the head of the Gryffindor table and waited patiently. No point in forcing people to leave the places they liked sitting in, nobody wanted to sit near the teachers, nobody wanted to sit near Ginny. Win, win. Eventually, once the hall was full – dinner hadn't appeared on the plates yet – Professor Dumbledore stood up.

"As most of you are no doubt already aware, Harry Potter resurfaced today for the first time since the death of Lord Voldemort." Everyone in the hall flinched. Everyone except Dumbledore, and Ginny.

"I am not at liberty to discuss what he was doing, and neither is he, so I implore you not to ask him, because he will not answer." The way he said this made it sound more like an order than a suggestion.

"However," he said, a gleeful expression appearing on his face, twinkle out in full force, "It is my great pleasure to announce the newest student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, sorted into Gryffindor House by the Sorting Hat just this morning, Mr Harry Potter!"

The doors, which had closed when Ginny wasn't looking, swung open. The students all leaned back on their benches, eager to get a good look.

Standing, framed in the massive doorway, was Harry Potter, wearing wizarding robes – expensive ones – of red and gold. His black hair had been combed back in a wave, and his green eyes seemed to shine with their own light. The entire upper half of his face was covered in jagged white lines, like veins in his skin instead of beneath it, shaped like a lightning bolt falling from the sky. Sitting on his shoulder was another figure she could barely make out, diminutive in size and giving off a faint blue aura. A faerie.

"Holy crap."


	4. Chapter 4

# Chapter 4:

_"The faerie are guarding this place. Sentries surround the entrance to the tomb. Why is it so well hidden? Why would the Faeries, beings of Imagination itself, be protecting the prison of their own god? What am I missing here?"_

_From the Diary of Merlinus Caledonensis; Earth, 537 Common Era._

* * *

Harry was furious. The only thing stopping him from marching back up the stairs and punching Headmaster Albus Dumbledore or whatever the fuck his name was, was the aluminium shackle stuck on his wrist. He was stuck here, with no hope of escape anytime soon. Oh, Double doors said he'd release him once he'd proved he was capable of passing the ordinary wizarding level of magic – a "precaution against hurting himself or others" – but anyone with a brain between their ears could tell he was lying. There was no way in hell he would let Harry go. Ever. And Harry had no choice but to play along.

So now, instead of shoving Dumbledore's wand up his ass – which is what he would _like _to be doing – he was standing in front of hundreds of people, wearing the 80's equivalent of an overpriced bathrobe. Gandalf's evil twin – so named because Harry had a great deal of respect for the real Gandalf and had decided that comparing Dumbledore to him was blasphemous – had cast a spell on him, some type of illusion he gathered, to make him look presentable (i.e., like he wasn't a homeless street urchin) for his "grand entrance." The colours were apparently to remind him which table he'd been ordered to sit at. McGonagall, whom Harry had decided to like, had talked about a sorting ceremony that involved a talking hat, but evil Gandalf had vetoed it and placed him in Gryffindor House – not that he really understood what that meant – instead. McGonagall had been incredibly confused by the Headmaster's proclamation (Harry assumed it wasn't common not to get sorted via the hat), but Harry knew why instantly. The hat contained one of the trapped faeries Mak had sensed in the room. Dumbledore, even if he couldn't see Mak, knew she there, connected to him, and no doubt wouldn't let him (and by extension her) near the artefact lest Harry know or discover a way to free the poor thing. It was a smart move on his part because it would have been the first thing Harry tried if the hat was put on him.

"Holy crap." It was a girl's voice, coming from the yellow and black table. Another girl at the red and gold one fainted. What had the old man done to him?

That seemed to break the ice, as within seconds the whole crowd began to whisper amongst themselves. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes – he did shoot a glare at the Headmaster though – and began to walk down the aisle, scanning the table.

He paid the smallest amount of attention possible. His brain was far too busy trying to process what he'd just learnt to bother with the act of walking. His parents, high school sweethearts, had been members of a group of freedom fighters battling Wizard Hitler. And apparently, they were good at it too. So good in fact that Wizard Hitler – whose name only Dumbledore would say – targeted them personally. As anyone sane of mind would do, they went into hiding once they learned he was gunning for them. Harry probably would have made a beeline for France, but he understood his parent's unwillingness to leave a war they'd spent so much time fighting behind. It was crazy, but he understood. Long story short, they were betrayed by his Dad's best friend, who then went and murdered his other best friend before being captured and thrown in a magical prison. Wizard Hitler had found his parents and killed them. Harry supposed he should have felt more at that. An urge to cry or something. He didn't. There was a numbness, and a sense of that tiny flickering flame – the one every orphan kept buried beneath their fears – had finally died. He'd known that his parents, whoever they had been, were dead, for a long time. It was just the final kick to the proverbial bucket.

The piece of the story he'd needed McGonagall to repeat several times to him was what had happened _after _his parents died. Lord Voldemort (which to Harry sounded suspiciously similar to the French _‘vol de mort' _which translated as _‘flight from death' _in English) had then tried to kill Harry himself. According to McGonagall, Harry should be dead, but the spell used by the so-called Dark Lord, the undefendable Killing Curse, had ‘rebounded' somehow, killing him instead, and leaving Harry with the scar on his head. At least he finally had something he could tell Nylah, though, if he thought about it, she would probably find the fact that the scar was caused by magic even more annoying than not knowing anything at all!

Harry paused in his thoughts as he walked down the aisle between tables in Hogwarts' great hall. Sitting at the head of the red and gold table, completely isolated, was a girl his age with blazing red hair like flickering flames. Her clothing was old – third hand at the least – and was too short at the ankles. The hem had been let down the whole way. There was a sunken look about her as if she were being pushed down by the weight of the world. And she was the only person in the room _not _looking at him.

Harry, knowing the sight of an at-risk person when he saw one, made his way in her direction, eliciting exclamations of shock and outrage from several people. So, not being ostracised just because she was poor. Something nasty must have happened to her. Or maybe she had done something terrible to everyone else and was paying the price? Regardless, of all the people sitting at the table, many of them moving to create seats for him, beckoning him to sit next to them, she was the only person he found remotely interesting. He'd follow evil Gandalf's orders until he found a way to get this bloody shackle off, but until then, he'd wiggle his way around them as best as possible, and try and do as much good as he could.

He sat down opposite the girl, who was now hiding her face in her hair. Mak let out a soft gasp from his shoulder, but Harry ignored her for the moment.

"I'm Harry. This morning I learned I was famous, and now the Headmaster is holding me prisoner here. There is no way your day can be going any worse than mine." He held out his hand to her. The hall had gone entirely silent again. He thought he might have caught a soft groan from Dumbledore's direction.

The girl raised her head, jaw slack. She had gorgeous chocolate brown eyes and a thick dusting of freckles across her nose. She hesitantly took his offered hand, and Harry gently shook it.

"There we go. I've already made a friend. Finally, a part of this day that I've enjoyed. What's your name?" Harry was taking a calculated gamble here. Judging by the shadows under her eyes, the jittering of her hand in his and the thinness of her frame, sitting here had been an excellent choice. Depression and anxiety, in all their various forms, were ubiquitous in the Bunker. He'd been a mess when Bran found him, and it had taken months to shake himself out of it. Since then, he'd made a solid effort to pay Bran's faith in him forward to those who needed help. Sometimes, you just needed a friend to watch out for you.

"Ginny," she said quietly, glancing towards the rest of the table, all of whom were staring at Harry and Ginny as if they had the plague. Ginny jerked her hand back, a small ‘eep' sound escaping her throat.

"Nice to meet you, Gin…" he trailed off. When Ginny had jerked back, he'd seen a second figure, diminutive, hiding in the tassels of her hair.

"Let the feast begin," Dumbledore said. Golden plates filled to the brim with more food than the entire population of the Bunker had seen in their collective lifetimes appeared on all four tables, and the students were finally distracted from Harry. At that moment, he didn't care in the slightest about the food. He was staring at Ginny. Or more accurately, he was staring at the faerie clinging to the inside of her robes.

Mak, taking his pause as a sign, finally jumped off his shoulder, landing on the wooden table and advancing toward Ginny. Her wings were folded around her dress. Ginny's eyes followed her. The faeries mustn't be able to hide from other bonded like they could hide from ordinary people. He glanced to Dumbledore, but evil Gandalf was in conversation with a dwarf man. The other teachers were still staring at him. Most had the stock standard awed expression, but a man at the end of the table with oily black hair and a long nose stared at him with utter hate in his gaze. Another man, with sandy hair and scars on his face, looked at him with an odd melding of pleading and wistfulness.

Mak pulled apart the curtain of Ginny's hair and snapped at the hidden faerie.

"If you thought you could hide from me you clearly haven't been on Earth for very long!" Ginny's eyes widened as she stared at the blue-skinned faerie.

"That's Mak. She's usually a great conversationalist, except when she's mad. I generally hide when she gets in one of her moods." A faerie with pitch-black hair, ash white skin, and dark clothing stepped shyly out from the folds of Ginny's robes. She floated softly down to the table, and she and Mak began to circle one another like a Mexican stand-off. Mak summoned her silver armour and sword. The dark-haired faerie's face transitioned from fright to confusion, before finally settling on eager determination. She held out her own hand, and pitch-black armour morphed around her, a long-handled black battle-axe appearing in her hands. Red flames begun dancing in her raven locks.

"Okay, that's enough," Harry said, placing a hand between the two.

Ginny finally regained her voice. "Ember! Behave yourself!" she exclaimed, face going as red as a tomato.

"Yeah, Ember," Mak mimicked, "Behave yourself."

"You too Zena Warrior Princess." Harry chided. Mak had the decency to look embarrassed, but she didn't vanish her armour or sword. Harry rolled her eyes.

"Sorry about her. She thought she was the only surviving faerie for the past seven years. Finding not one, but four, three of them imprisoned, in a single day, has rattled her more than she cares to admit. Me too if I'm honest." Ginny shivered.

"Imprisoned?" Ember had frozen stiff.

Harry and Mak both nodded.

"The old man has them trapped in at least three artefacts up in his office. That's why I'm here. Well, aside from the fact that I can't leave." He held up the arm with the silver shackle attached to it.

"You were serious?"

"About the Headmaster imprisoning me? Or about not knowing I was famous until this morning?"

"Uh, both!"

Harry smiled inwardly. She was smiling. Regardless of how much today had totally sucked, he'd made her smile. At least that was something.

"When I woke up this morning in my sleeping bag on the floor of a homeless shelter…" Best not to mention the Bunker until he could trust her. "… I was a normal, discarded orphan living on the edge of society." He frowned. "Well, as normal an orphan can be when he's followed around by a blue faerie with a fetish for caramel."

Mak glared at him. "I do not have a fetish. I just happen to enjoy it. Nothing wrong with that."

"You'll get fat. I wonder if you'll still be able to fly with a potbelly."

"I don't get fat!" She said pointedly, folding her arms and scowling.

"Makes one of us." Harry had finally taken in the sheer amount of food on the table in front of him. He hesitantly pulled a piece of roast beef onto his plate, followed by a jacket potato. He'd never had roast beef before, though he'd seen it on the television. Potatoes he'd had a few times, cooked over the firepit in the Bunker. He took up a fork and stabbed at the beef until it was firmly stuck onto the pointy ends and placed it in his mouth. He groaned softly. That had to be the best thing he'd ever eaten. And all created by magic? Maybe he could learn to create food too? If he could, the Bunker would never go hungry again!

"You're really telling the truth," Ginny whispered. Harry looked up at her, the rest of his beef already halfway to his mouth.

"What gave me away?"

"You're holding that fork like a caveman." Harry frowned at his grip.

"It's how you'd hold a knife. Is there a different way for a fork?" Ginny giggled softly. Harry shrugged and continued eating.

"Next time, if you want to know if I'm telling the truth or not, ask Ember." He said after he'd swallowed. He picked up the kitchen knife – it was pretty pathetic – held his potato with his free hand, and cut it in half.

"Why?"

"They can tell truth from lie." He tentatively placed the potato in his mouth. In an instant, he wished he hadn't. It was so much better than Bran's, and that made him feel incredibly guilty. Ginny's eyebrows had gone in search of her hairline. Ember looked confused.

"I… actually I think he's right. I _can _do that," she whispered. Harry shared a glance with Mak.

"How long have you guys been together?" he asked Ginny and Ember.

"Almost a year and a half now," Ginny said hesitantly.

Harry nodded.

"That makes sense. Mak didn't start to regain her memories until the end of our second year. She's still got a lot of blind spots even now."

"I can speak for myself, you know," Mak said.

"Then speak up." Mak glared at him, before sighing and finally vanishing her armour and sword. She sat down on the edge of his plate and pulled off a piece of beef with her hands. Harry picked up the golden goblet – he was really getting jack of the gaudiness – and examined the orange liquid inside. It smelled kind of like pumpkin. He tried a sip and instantly chocked on it. He spat the juice back into the cup and set it down on the table, trying not to gag.

"What is that crap?"

"Pumpkin juice," Ginny said, giggling once more.

"God, you'd have to be insane to drink that," he said. He went looking through the goblets for one with water in it.

"If you ask it for what you want, it'll change," Ginny told him through her laughter. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Okay. Not the weirdest thing I've heard today. Goblet, I would like a coke please." The goblet transformed into a red aluminium can. Harry grinned.

"I think I could get used to this place."

* * *

Ginny wasn't entirely sure she hadn't finally lost what remained of her sanity. Because Harry Potter - the Boy-Who-Lived, defeater of Voldemort and saviour of the Wizarding World - was sitting opposite _her_ of all the people he could have sat next to at Gryffindor table. She'd thought at first that he'd come for her because of Ember, who'd hidden inside her robes the second they saw that Harry had a faerie of his own. But no, he'd been completely shocked when he caught sight of Ember halfway through the conversation. So why?

He was so… different than she'd expected. Her younger self had put together an image of a dashing hero, charismatic, funny and noble all at the same time, dedicated to protecting all – especially damsels in distress like Ginny. Then, once her father had shattered that dream, she'd conjured a haunted figure, sorrowful and quiet. Someone who had few friends partly because he'd grown up around adults, partly because he didn't trust anyone. The image from the paper had almost reinforced that depiction; a man of power and determination, floating above his enemies, eyes alight with energy.

The Harry sitting across from her seemed to fit neither image. He was funny, charming, and had a trustworthiness about him, almost like an aura of positivity. It was practically overwhelming. But when she looked into his eyes as he spoke of the trapped faeries, and his imprisonment, she could see a hardness there. Anger, resolve, and above all, a fierce determination. She could see it in the way he held himself, the confidence of his voice, in the power radiated from his faerie Mak that neither seemed to notice. Harry Potter was a leader, a warrior, a hero. In other words, the type of person who shouldn't be paying any attention to her what-so-ever.

So, what was Harry Potter, the saviour of Wizardkind, doing as he sat across from Ginny Weasley, the most hated person in Hogwarts? He was drinking a muggle soft drink, as he pulled tiny pieces of meat from his half-slice of roast beef, before offering them to his faerie companion. She didn't think he intended to eat any more. He'd eaten one and a half pieces of beef and a single roast potato, and it was the smallest one on the plate. She ate more than that when she was sick! If she hadn't already accepted his outlandish story about being homeless and not knowing he was famous until that morning; that would have definitely proved it.

As he put his fork down and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, she couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Why? Why sit with me? Everyone hates me here, and you don't even know why. But instead of going to anyone else, who would have been over the moon to talk to _the _Harry Potter, you come and sit with me. It doesn't make any sense!"

Harry looked her in the eye, holding her gaze with those spheres of intense emerald. Merlin, she could drown in those eyes.

"Because I've been you. The person that everyone wishes would just disappear. You feel it, like a shadow pressing down on you everywhere you go. Every whisper could be about you. No one talks to you. In fact, they go out of their way to avoid you or have nothing to do with you. And what's worse, is you can't even bring yourself to blame them. Because they're better off away from you, having nothing to do with you. You're dangerous, and anyone who tries to help you just gets hurt. If you're going to get hurt anyway, why let someone else share the pain when they don't have too? So, you push the few who try to get close away. In the end, as you sit in your sphere of isolation, the weight of the world, the weight of their stares, trying to pull you into the ground, you think to yourself, why am I still here? What's the point of my suffering? Why can't everyone just leave me alone? Would anyone even miss me if I disappeared?" Harry paused, a soft tremble to his voice. There were tears in his eyes.

"Sound familiar?"

Ginny, heart racing, her hands clammy, couldn't bring herself to even move.

"No one is ever truly alone. There is always a reason not to. Always. No matter how dark it seems when the world pushes down on you, all it takes is one light to lighten the load. A friend in a time of need. I say you're my friend now Ginny, and if you think holding up the sky is a job for you alone, think again, because no one carries the sky by themselves when I'm in town."

They sat in silence for several minutes. Ember was looking at Harry with something that looked a little like awe. Mak had a knee bent, one arm on her hips, a smirk on her tiny face. Finally, as a distraction, Ginny said the first thing that came to mind.

"So, what are you going to do? About Dumbledore, I mean?"

Harry frowned slightly, no doubt seeing her rather blatant attempt to change the conversation. He blinked, and the vulnerability vanished in an instant. His face was once again the charismatic, happy go lucky it had been for most of the night. He glanced towards the Headmaster, still talking to Professor Flitwick at the staff table. Professor McGonagall still hadn't shown up. Ginny grabbed her goblet of juice and took a drink to disguise the dabbing motion intended to hide her tears.

"Once I get this thing off, I'm going to shove his wand so far up his ass he'll need surgery to get it back out." He said it in a solemn tone. Not an ounce of humour in it.

Ginny choked on her pumpkin juice. Fred and George, as if they had a sixth sense for the most opportune moment to enter a conversation, appeared beside them. One sat down beside Harry, the other next to Ginny. Mak instantly summoned her magnificent suit of armour. Ginny could tell Ember was jealous of it. She immediately created her own armour, deliberately with a bigger weapon than Mak's. To think, faeries having ego fuelled deathmatches.

"Well, well, well. Looks like little Gin Gin stole all the spotlight for herself tonight. There are a lot of people mighty pissed off down there for sure. You should have seen Malfoy's face when you walked in Harry. Priceless!" George exclaimed, slapping Ginny on the back so hard the juice stuck in her throat shot back out her mouth, splattering all over the two faeries. They turned towards her with evil expressions. _‘Sorry!'_ She mouthed to them.

"Harry, these are my idiot twin brothers, Fred and George. Don't both trying to tell them apart. Nobody can," she said, trying to regain her breath.

"Fabulous!" Harry said, shaking Fred's hand, a smile that seemed utterly genuine snapping onto his face in an instant. As they shook, however, Harry flicked his eyes between her and the faeries, before sliding back to meet hers. She shook her head slightly. No. They didn't know about Ember. No one did. Harry nodded softly before releasing Fred and leaning across the table to give George the same treatment.

"I live to piss people off it seems. Tell me, who is this Malfoy – a terrible name that – and why was his reaction so excellent?" Fred and George beamed, then turned towards Ginny and spoke in unison.

"We approve." Ginny blushed as red as her hair. Fred and George then began regaling Harry about why Draco Malfoy and his gang of Slytherins were "the worst of the worst". Ginny didn't think it took too long to convince him. Fred and George seemed to open a floodgate of some kind, because within a few minutes, the Gryffindor Quidditch Chasers Angelina, Alicia and Katie were surrounding them. Katie was even sitting with only one vacant place between herself and Ginny. None of them talked to her, no matter how many times Harry tried to bring her into the conversation, but it was the most included she'd felt in years. As more and more people started trickling over, most of them girls, Harry was compelled to tell the story of what happened to him that morning half a dozen times. He recounted it the same, with no differences in every telling. He was happily sleeping in a homeless shelter when one of his friends, a girl named Sammy – Ginny was angry at herself for feeling jealous whenever she was mentioned – was mind-controlled into giving away his location. He was attacked by the Aurors and defeated them with ease. Then Dumbledore had attacked him with his "flying chicken" abducting him and bringing him to Hogwarts, where he was now trapped – he brandished the silver metal clamp around his wrist at that point for emphasis.

Ginny spent the time watching the reactions of those present. Most thought he was having a joke (those who laughed at the end with a "good one Harry"), some thought he was deliberately misleading him (those who frowned and edged away from him), but a few seemed to take in what he was saying. Mainly, Fred and George, Katie, Alicia and Angelina, and two seventh years whose names Ginny couldn't remember.

Harry handled it better than Ginny would have. He listened to everyone, but only let one person talk at a time. He asked about their hobbies, their goals, what their favourite classes were. Ginny thought the whole exercise ridiculous until Mak jumped up on her shoulder, earning a scowl from Ember, and whispered in her ear, "He's mining them for information. Rule number #7, people are always willing to talk about themselves." Her respect for him climbed even higher. Eventually, after all the other tables had practically emptied, Dumbledore ordered the Gryffindors to bed. Harry was quickly pulled away from Ginny by the tide, though he kept trying to look back over his shoulder to her. In a few seconds, Ginny was on her own again. Well, on her own, except for Ember and Mak, who were sitting on either shoulder.

Ginny was the last to leave the hall. As she trudged up the stairs, Mak stared at her with narrow eyes.

"He's right, you know," she said.

"Right about what?"

"You can't hold up the sky alone. Harry… he was a wreck when we ran away from the Dursleys. I… I was newborn, at the time. No help at all. I knew nothing about the Design, about the world. I couldn't even remember my own name for the first few weeks. He… He thought about it as we lay in that hollow in the woods, only the dirt and the worms for company, that it would have been nicer to just go to sleep and not wake up. He tried to hide it, but I saw. I think he might have tried before I came to him. He won't talk about it. But he never let himself get consumed by it. For me. Even at the earliest, I knew that without him, I would die. Something… or maybe someone was chasing me before I found him. I still to this day don't know what it was. Or at least I can't remember. He lived through the cold nights, the hunger, the pain, for me. I was his purpose." Mak was actually crying. Ginny was worried she might too.

"So, this is what you're going to do. Those faeries imprisoned upstairs. They're your purpose. You are going to do everything you can to help Harry set them free. No more, no less." Mak jumped up into the air, and four transparent wings, like an insect, uncurled from around her dress and began fluttering behind her. Ginny hadn't noticed them before. Her blonde hair floated slightly in the breeze kicked up by her wings. A soft mist fell away from her as she floated.

Ginny nodded softly. "Good," Mak said, "Now where did that boy run off too? I swear…" She flew up into the sky and vanished.

Ember poked Ginny's neck, giving her a self-satisfied side-eye.

"A purpose. I can do that." Then, with renewed vigour, she walked up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower.


	5. Chapter 5

# Chapter 5:

_"Marilyn and I have attempted to speak with the faerie guards to ask them why they are here. They said they do not know. They know only two things: that they are guard-faerie, and that they must protect the tomb from all who dare to enter. Marilyn does not recognise any of them from the Valley."_

_From the Diary of Merlinus Caledonensis; Earth, 537 Common Era._

* * *

At least he got his own room.

That was an oddity in and of itself. Because Harry had never had his own room. Ever. He'd lived in the cupboard under the stairs, he'd lived under trees, in alleys, and in communal sleeping spaces like the Bunker. He'd never had his own room.

It was the worst night sleep he'd ever had. He tossed and turned on the too-soft mattress, the sheets were so fine they scratched at his skin, and the pillow had no purchase. Not to mention the complete and total absence of sound. He estimated he got about three hours of sleep before he got up – that stupid illusion spell had finally worn off – and went down to the Gryffindor Common Room in his regular clothes again. He had thrown the red and gold bathrobe into the fireplace.

Everything was just so… gaudy. The tapestries, the oil paintings – and don't even get him started on the fact that some of them moved like they were TVs. When one of them spoke back to him, he'd almost had a heart attack. He could feed the Bunker for months with just what was in this room.

After pacing for two more hours, he went back to his room and tried to sleep again. They didn't know what to do with him. Put him with the Fourth Years, the group he should have been with if he'd gone to school at eleven like he was supposed to, or the first years, who were all years younger than he was. The solution McGonagall had devised was to put him in the Head Boy's room at the top of the spiral dormitory staircase. The current Head Boy was a Hufflepuff apparently, and as such, the room was vacant. It had its own living space and bathroom – like a tiny apartment. According to McGonagall, his father had used this very room when he'd been Head Boy. That gave Harry the chills.

He slept another two hours.

When morning came, he was summoned to the Headmaster's office first thing. He barely had time to say good morning to Ginny, Fred, George, Alicia, Katie and Angelina before a tiny creature with floppy ears had appeared in the middle of the Common Room and started prostrating itself in front of him. Actually, that was a misnomer. The House Elf – as Harry learned they were called – was actually bowing before Mak, not him. That had started a very long-winded tirade on Mak's part about how Harry ought to be showing her as much deference as Tippy the House Elf did. Harry had to resist the urge to swat her with a pillow. If the Gryffindor's found anything off with his clothes, they didn't mention it where Harry could hear.

The House Elf had taken him to the Headmaster's Office, before vanishing, and so Harry remained for the next fifteen minutes, in a room half obscured by mist.

He knew what evil Gandalf was doing. Making someone wait to show that they had power over you was the oldest trick in the book. Instead of being agitated or impatient, Harry used the time to poke through the Headmaster's stuff. He tried to enter the shrouded part of the office, but the mist reared up and increased its density whenever he tried to go up the stairs, forbidding his passage. Next, he went searching for the captured faeries. No luck there either. Dumbledore had moved all three into the mist since yesterday.

Next, he tried riffing through the old man's drawers. They were locked with magic. The foreign stuff. Supremely unhelpful. The bookshelves had proved promising. At first. He'd at least been able to touch those. But no book he opened was in English. He thought he recognised some French words in a few volumes, but the spelling seemed very bizarre. Harry hadn't had much opportunity to practice reading since his arrival in the Bunker, and before he'd left the Dursleys he'd struggled in his learning because of the poor over the counter plastic glasses Vernon had given him when his primary school mandated that he have a visual aid – owing to the fact that he couldn't see the teacher if they stood more than a handspan away. He supposed the language might be Latin. Bran said that was like an old-timey precursor to French used by scholars. He had no clue as to any of the others. Exhausted of options, he grabbed one of the spindly silver objects on Dumbledore's desk and tried to figure out what that did. This also proved fruitless.

He ignored Dumbledore when he came into the room, keeping his attention fixed firmly on the silver thing. It made the occasional _‘ding' _sound, so he assumed it must be counting something. Maybe if he bashed it on the chair?

Behind Dumbledore came Professor McGonagall, a tall, lanky boy wearing Hogwarts robes with bright orange hair and a multitude of freckles who looked about Harry's age, and a giant man with a long scraggly beard and tiny beetle-like eyes that had to be over eight feet tall. How had he stepped through the door?

"Ah, Harry! You're here. Fabulous. I've been speaking to Professor McGonagall, and we've managed to come up with a plan for your education," Dumbledore said, moving behind his desk and taking a seat.

"What is this thing?" Harry asked, shaking the gadget, "Because I don't think it actually does anything. It just makes a ding sound every time this cog here taps the slider."

Dumbledore smiled that creepy smile, with the freaky twinkle in his eye.

"You're quite right. It does, in fact, do nothing. It isn't even a measure of time, as the sounds created are random in interval." Harry placed the device back on the desk. He had a feeling he'd just passed a test. Bloody man.

"Firstly," Dumbledore continued, gesturing to his companions, "let me introduce you to Mr Ronald Weasley and Mr Rubeus Hagrid. Mr Weasley is the older brother of Miss Ginny Weasley, whom I noticed you struck up a friendship with last night. Hagrid is our gamekeeper and Care of Magical Creatures teacher." Harry forcing himself to be polite (Adam would be furious at him if he didn't make a good first impression) stood and walked up to the two newcomers, offering his hand to Ronald first, seeing as how he was standing in front of the giant man.

"Nice to meet you," Harry said, offering his hand to shake. The red-haired boy took it gladly.

"You too. It's just Ron though," Ron said, stammering slightly in nervousness. He was going to have to get used to that now.

"Ron it is then." Harry then reached past Ron to take the hand of Hagrid, who… did he have tears in his eyes? Regardless, the man's grip was like a vice, but Harry didn't let any pain show on his face.

"Quite a strong grip you've got Professor Hagrid, I don't suppose you've been drinking Ent-Draft, have you?" It should go without saying at this point that Harry had managed to see the Lord of the Rings movies and found himself quite enjoying them. It didn't hurt that Mak had admitted to thinking Aragorn was "quite dashing." As such, he made a conceited effort to compare anything he found out of the ordinary to Middle Earth, partly because it was fun, partially because it never failed to get a blush out of Mak.

"It's just Hagrid, I'm no professor. And… it's a right honour it is Harry. I knew your mum and dad, you know. Best people I knew." Harry found himself grinning for real this time.

"Fantastic. I know just the person to come see for stories then. I didn't even know their names until a few days ago, I'd love to learn more about them." He was surprised by how genuine he was as he said the words. He'd tried to compartmentalise it all. So, what if his parents were dead? Nothing crying would do about it. But… with all this knowledge about them at his disposal, he'd be a fool not to learn as much as he could. What could it hurt?

Hagrid pulled an enormous handkerchief out of the pocket of his overcoat and blew his nose.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, prompting Harry to turn back to face him.

"I'm certain now," Mak said softly in his ear, "He keeps one on his person, that's what I felt at the train station."

"Unfortunately, because Professor McGonagall will be in classes all day, I've arranged for Hagrid and Mr Weasley to accompany you to Diagon Alley, the Wizarding Shopping district, so you can purchase supplies for your tutorage with us. Because you haven't had any formal education in the Magical Arts, I'm afraid you'll have to start in the first-year classes until you get the hang of it. But I'm sure you'll be capable of moving up to fourth year before the year is out. I will allow you to select your electives early, however, and you'll go into third-year classes with them. Fortunately, the term has only just started, so you won't have any work to catch up on. You're more than welcome to remain in the Head Boy's quarters, but if you wish, you may move into the fourth-year boys' dormitory any time you please." Dumbledore withdrew a letter from his sleeve and handed it to Harry. The second his fingers touched the paper, his whole body exploded in agony. Mak screamed.

Waves of lava tore through his skin, while knives of ice drilled into his bones. His head felt as if it had been struck by lightning. The manacle on his right wrist began to blister his skin with heat. Harry fell to his knees, dropping the envelope, hands flying to his head in panic. Mak was crying out in hysteria. She slipped from his shoulder, crashing to the stone floor. Hands grabbed his shoulders, but he didn't care. The only thing that mattered was Mak, screaming her throat raw, curled up in a ball, mist curling around her. He tried to reach for her, tried to push away the pain. But it was as much a part of him as Mak was. He could feel her slipping away, the pain pushing at him, gnawing at his very essence. Trying… trying to push her away. His head hit the stone, then more hands were grabbing at him, pulling him upright. Someone was trying to push a bottle to his lips. He thought people might be speaking to him, calling his name. But his only thought was for Mak. She was wasting away. Her very body cracking apart and vanishing into the air. Her tiny face was creased in complete agony. He reached for her.

_"Stretch forth thy hand."_ It was a mutter, a whisper of the softest variety, filled with anguish and distress. But it worked. Somehow, Mak heard him, and as her very body began to mist away, she reached out one tiny hand.

_‘Harry…' _spoke her voice in his mind, on the very wind itself.

"Stretch for thy hand, Mak!!!" he screamed, the pain fuelling the words. His finger brushed her faint blue hand. A bright silver light erupted in Harry's vision, and everything went black.

* * *

When he came too, he was no longer in Dumbledore's office. He was lying on a hospital bed. It seemed some things were universal. Hospitals, magical or mundane, would always have white walls and smell of antiseptic. The crenulations were new though. He groaned, sitting upright, blinking his eyes to clear his head. He was still in Hogwarts, but there were dozens of hospital beds lining the walls either side of him. Sunlight streamed through the windows.

The face of a woman with greying hair, wearing a very old-fashioned nurses outfit appeared in front of him, and she began waving her wand in front of him in intricate patterns.

"Well you seem perfectly fine to me," the woman muttered, moving to consult a floating clipboard. Harry's hand began to heat up. He and the woman both looked down to Harry's right hand at the same time, where a blazing blue and silver light was shining out from within his clamped fist. He slowly uncurled his fingers, and Mak, fully formed in her silver armour, sword in hand, jumped from his hand. She increased in size in the space it took Harry to blink, becoming the same size as Harry was, a look of righteous fury on her face Harry had never seen before. The woman gasped in fright, back peddling. Mak had made herself visible.

The faerie didn't waste any time on the nurse. She stormed past her like God's own storm and advanced towards the large closed doors. Waiting there were Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall. Harry jumped to his feet and paused just long enough to see that the shackle was still on his wrist before running after her. There was no way this ended well.

_"Tu puss culzar!!"_ Mak screamed, placing her sword against Dumbledore's throat. It turned to mist as it touched his skin. Harry came up short. That wasn't any French he knew, though it sounded close enough. Was it Latin? Something similar? Dumbledore didn't look to know it either, judging by the confused look on his face.

"Mak, I presume?" He asked. Harry reached Mak's side but stood slightly behind her, not interfering.

"You may presume nothing, _teneb ira,_" Mak hissed.

"I am Makani Masella de Tastheria, and I will have vengeance against you for your actions today! In the name of Ourans I will have it!" Then she vanished in a swirl of mist.

Harry folded his arms and stared at the Headmaster, who looked a shade whiter than he had been a few seconds previously.

"What did you do to us?" Harry asked, anger barely contained.

Dumbledore took a deep breath.

"I don't…" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Did you forget? I can tell when you're lying Professor. A rather useful talent, don't you think? Your fancy bracelet can't stop me doing that." Dumbledore sighed.

"Albus, what exactly is going on here," McGonagall asked, trembling slightly, though whether that was from fear of Mak or anger for Dumbledore Harry wasn't sure.

"I… the Hogwarts letter, it had the trigger spell for the trace upon it, just like every other Hogwarts letter. I didn't think…" Mak's voice tingled in his brain like windchimes.

"Lie," Harry said flatly. Dumbledore looked at him. The sparkle was gone.

"I wasn't sure what would happen. I certainly didn't know it would cause any pain. Every magical child has the trace on them. It is not unique!" Dumbledore exclaimed, and McGonagall seemed to relax slightly. He was telling the truth at least. Harry would wager the crown jewels that it wasn't the whole truth by a shot as long as the channel, but it was the truth.

"Does that satisfy your companion?" Dumbledore asked him.

"You tried to place a tracking spell on us," Harry summarised.

"Yes, but your bond with… Miss Makani, repelled the spell. I imagine it would repel any spell that attempted to imprint on you using the Art of Enchantment. It requires further study…" he trailed off, looking thoughtful.

"Bond? Start explaining immediately!" McGonagall snapped. Harry very much wanted an explanation too, but not about the bond. He wanted to know what the "Art of Enchantment" was. Could it perhaps be the proper name for the magic all these Witches and Wizards used? The one that felt so foreign to him? At the very least, he had something he could try and research in the library. Affluent schools like this place had libraries, right?

"Harry, as you just saw, shares a bond with a faerie, granting him access to a series of six powers hidden from us ordinary magic users, Minerva. It's these skills he has been using for years. It's why no Owl could find him, and why the ward stones surrounding Britain that detect accidental magic weren't triggered whenever he used it." Shit. The Headmaster knew _a lot _more about him than Harry had thought. Dumbledore turned towards Harry.

"I don't suppose your bonding occurred on your seventh birthday did it?"

"I don't think that is any of your business."

McGonagall looked flabbergasted.

"A faerie? But that's impossible! They've been extinct for centuries. Trapped in the Expanse of Delusions by the Pact of Truth!" Harry snapped towards McGonagall.

"Pact of Truth? What's the Pact of Truth?"

"It was hundreds of years ago now. There used to be faeries all across Earth, beings of imagination born of the dreams and passions of humanity. Some faeries were helpful to wizards, but most were simply tricksters that placed curses on the unsuspecting, causing failures and deaths on those poor unfortunate souls to encounter them. The muggles certainly had no way of defending themselves."

"They became such a plague that Antioch Peverell, Nicolas Flamel and Ethric Malfoy devised an incredibly powerful spell that, when enacted, banished all faeries back into their homeland, a place we call the Expanse of Delusions, though they just called it …"

"The Valley," Harry whispered. Mak had told him of what little she remembered of the place.

"Professor Binns, the History teacher, could tell you more about it, but the point is, there shouldn't be a faerie on this side. It shouldn't be possible. The Pact is still in place, tied permanently to the Heart-stone. It _cannot _be broken."

"I do not know," Dumbledore admitted, "but you saw her with your own eyes. She has escaped. Who is to say others have not as well?" Harry narrowed his eyes but said nothing. Evil Gandalf knew damn well that others had escaped this pact thing, he'd captured them himself.

Dumbledore shook himself.

"Well, if that is all, there is still plenty of time for the trip to Diagon Alley?" Dumbledore suggested. Harry found himself nodding, he could really use some fresh air.

* * *

### 2 years ago,

Ginny stood behind her mother at the front desk of Flourish and Blots book store in Diagon Alley, watching as Gilderoy Lockhart signed her second-hand books. Gilderoy Lockhart! The famous dueller and explorer. He was a real hero! Like Harry Potter! Oh, she hoped she'd be able to meet him. No matter what Dad said, Harry was a hero. He went on secret missions according to Professor Dumbledore, so he must be. She hoped he would come to school that year. Ron was hoping so too she knew. She hoped he didn't get all competitive for his friendship like he usually did when she tried to do something he liked – she was still sore over their last game of Quidditch in the backyard.

Mum gathered up her books and, with a last lingering glance at Lockhart over her shoulder, turned towards the exit. Only then did they realise the commotion at the door. Ron was staring daggers at a boy with slicked-back silver hair. Her father had his hand on Ron's shoulder, gripping like a vice. Ron's face was bright crimson.

_Oh no._

Ginny followed behind her mother to the front of the shop, arriving at the same time a tall man, doppelgänger to his son with long silver locks that flowed down his back.

"Arthur, I hope nothing untoward is occurring," the man drawled in a thick aristocratic accent.

"Weasley almost attacked me, Father," the boy said, an evil smirk thick on his face.

"Nonsense," Dad said, "Ron just tripped is all Lucius. A bad bit of business."

"I didn't…" Ron started, but Dad increased his grip on Ron's shoulder, quieting him.

"I'm sure you're right, Arthur," the man agreed. _Lucius._ She only knew one person with that name. Lucius _Malfoy_. That made the boy his son Draco, the one Ron was always complaining about.

"I've been meaning to ask," Malfoy continued, "How have your raids been faring at the Ministry? I hear you've had a number of them reasonably. I hope they're paying you overtime." Malfoy leaned towards Ginny and plucked her transfiguration textbook from the cauldron hanging limply in her mother's hands.

"Apparently not," he said, raising an eyebrow at the tattered second-hand book. "Tell me, Arthur, what's the point of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?" He dumped the book, which looked a bit thicker than before, back into Ginny's cauldron, turned on his heel and left the shop, his son trailing behind. Her father's face was flushed red. Ginny let out a long shaky breath and followed the rest of her family outside and back to the Leaky Cauldron.


	6. Chapter 6

# Chapter 6

_"Dear Khriss,_

_I have done as you asked and crossed the world sea, and I have arrived at the Valley. It is as you feared. Something has happened on Earth. The boundaries between this place and the physical realm have been closed from the outside by some force I cannot penetrate. The faerie cannot escape either. At least it explains the mass migration across the sea. Those who remain here are slowly dying. I can only deduce it is because of this barrier. I am going to attempt another way of reaching Earth. I will contact you again when I know more._

_Your friend."_

_Author Unknown._

* * *

Diagon Alley was supremely weird. To think, an entire shopping district of magic in the middle of London. It was incredible. And the bizarreness of it all! The shops sold things like owls, ingredients for potion making and flying broomsticks! Broomsticks! He was going mad. There was no other explanation.

Combine that with the revelations about the reason there were no faeries around anymore, and the fact that he was still recovering from almost having his bond severed, and it was a miracle he was still functioning at all.

Hagrid led the way towards a large, crooked white marble building at the end of the street.

"Spoiler alert, but I don't have any money to pay for things," Harry said. Ron had Harry's letter in his hand, Harry refused to touch the thing despite Dumbledore's assurances it was safe.

"Of course, you' ave money Harry. It's all there in Gringotts," the giant – who was actually a giant, which Harry found only marginally less impressive than Ent-Draft – exclaimed, gesturing towards the wonky marble building.

"Yeah," Ron agreed, "Dad said your parents were loaded or something." Harry wasn't sure how to feel about that. Mak was sitting on his head, braiding a tiny lock out of a few black strands. She did that when she was nervous or trying to distract herself. Harry hadn't pushed her. She'd open up when she was ready. Ron's rat chirped on his shoulder, and Ron pulled a piece of cheese from his pocket and fed it to the creature. Harry shivered. He _hated _rats. They got in everywhere. He and the rest of the Bunker residents spent hours baiting the little fuckers so they wouldn't chew the cables or get into their meagre food supplies. Not to mention, the droppings attracted bacteria and disease.

Hagrid led them inside the bank, and Harry knew he'd now seen it all. To his credit, he didn't gasp or cry out in alarm. The inside of the bank – keeping with the marble theme – was gilded in gold everywhere the eye could see. Even the bank tellers. But that wasn't the freaky part. Manning the tellers, were dozens of small humanoid creatures with pointed ears, muddy skin, big beady eyes and very sharp looking teeth and claws. Goblins. They had to be Goblins. This was so cool. When did he get to see Rivendell?

The second he stepped inside, every single one of them turned towards him, and all sound abruptly cut off. The few witches and wizards, seeing their tellers distractions, turned, following their gazes, and had nearly the same reaction when they realised who he was. God, that reaction was already old. He missed being homeless.

"_Masellas de Tastheria_," one of the Goblins whispered. Harry frowned. Mak had said the same thing when confronting Dumbledore. What did it mean?

"Hurhmm. Right then," Hagrid grumbled, obviously anxious, before heading towards the teller at the very far end at the room, which was by far the largest and most important looking.

Hagrid cleared his throat nervously, Ron looked about ready to faint, Harry didn't blame him. This close, he could see that the important looking goblin, indeed all the Goblins, were not looking at him. They were looking at the top of his head, where Mak still sat, oblivious to the attention.

"Mr Harry Potter wishes to make a withdrawal," Hagrid said. He reached into his pocket and removed a tiny golden key, placing it on the desk. The goblin took the key, stared at Mak for a few more seconds, before turning towards a smaller Goblin standing behind him and barking in a different, much harsher language. The small goblin scurried off.

"Very well. Verification on his part will be required," the goblin said, "this way." He stepped down from his teller and beckoned Harry towards a side door. Hagrid and Ron moved to follow, but the goblin glared harshly at them, and they went no further. Harry shrugged an apology and followed. They passed into a side corridor, tall enough for humans thankfully, and Harry took the opportunity to swat at his head.

"Hey! Pay attention, little miss princess!" He snapped, "the bank managers are treating you like a god. Maybe, instead of giving them the cold shoulder, you should be a tad more benevolent?" Mak fell off his head, unfurling her wings and fluttering up beside his head.

The room Harry was led to was a large round office, with a tall roof shrouded in mist. It was lit by five torches in brackets around the walls, and the desk and chairs in the centre of the room seemed to be made from solid gold. Behind the counter was another chair, but this one was high backed and encrusted with jewels. Sitting on the bejewelled throne was a Goblin wearing what looked like a mixture of a business suit and battle armour. An axe was propped against the chair. He didn't stare at Mak in the same awe as the others, more a sense of intrigue.

"Yeah, okay. I see it now. Sorry," Mak said softly, looking a tad guilty. Harry took a seat.

The fancy-looking goblin looked at a piece of paper on his desk for a few moments, before finally turning his eye back to Mak.

"I had thought the Pact of Truth was still in place," he said eventually, in a gruff English.

"I don't know anything about that," Mak answered. "I don't remember much of why I left the Valley, or how I got here." The goblin frowned.

"A pity," he said softly, "I would very much have liked to know how our brethren fair in the Lost Homeland." Harry's eyebrows shot skyward. They came from the same place as Mak? Was that why they spoke that language? An ancient faerie language. This just kept getting more awesome. Harry was trying very hard not to geek out. Just for a moment, he could pretend that he was on a grand adventure, not being forced to do as he was told by an old white guy with more power than was reasonable.

"_E sur paiher, Kobalusprilla," _Mak said, bowing her head. Harry really needed to learn this thing. The goblin mimicked Mak's gesture, before finally turning his attention to Harry.

What followed was utterly boring and incredibly embarrassing. After providing some blood for a test to the goblin, whose name was Griphook, he had to sit for about half an hour signing papers while he waited. Apparently, a lot of paperwork had backed up while he had been incommunicado. As a result, letters numbering in the tens of thousands from well-wishers in the aftermath of Voldemort's defeat had been left in limbo. Various gifts and packages were apparently included, some of them being highly expensive. He had also received 1152 guardianship requests from wizarding families willing to take him, ranging from close friends of his mother and father to known servants of Voldemort; close to one hundred betrothal requests (Mak had fallen off his head laughing at that point); invitations from every Magical School in the world (that might be something to think about); and documents from around fifty people who, with their families wiped out during the war, had named _him_ as the beneficiaries of _their_ Wills.

The only saving grace was he didn't have to actually write much – which would have taken even longer – just his signature. He was proud to say it was actually legible by the end of it. Eventually, his blood test came back, seemingly proving he was who he said he was. When, after a rollercoaster ride through what he was about 99% sure were the Mines of Moria, they arrived at an underground vault. Harry had already figured out what must be inside, but it still freaked him out all the same. Ron and Hagrid had been right. He _was _loaded.

Many of the people Harry had known hated the rich, famous and influential, and he certainly understood why. They were easy to hate. They had _everything _and wasted entire fortunes on things he'd never buy in a billion years when they could be spending it on helping the poor and destitute. It was also a convenient outlet for one's anger. But Harry… Harry hadn't particularly hated them. He certainly didn't love the rich, but he didn't despise them either. If his life had taught him anything, it was that every person had a role to play. Uncle Vernon, the bitter, hateful man that he was, had been a businessman who high up in the leadership chain of a franchise of hardware stores across the city. His job had been to sell drills and other products to handyman and people attempting DIY projects. Someone had to do it. If it weren't Uncle Vernon, then society would just push another person in to take his place. Harry's job was to protect the Bunker and its inhabitants from danger – though he'd ended up bringing them more trouble in the end. That was his purpose. Protection. Ever since he'd met Mak, that was what he had driven himself towards.

To his mind, someone had to be at the top of the food chain. If all the worlds rich people suddenly just ‘gave up' their riches to the poor, how much of that would reach the people who really needed it? And if they did give up all their money, who would run the government? Who would pay for new train stations or bridges? Who would pay the pensions of the elderly or the infirm? The opposite was also true. Harry had had a discussion about it with Nylah, Bran and Emily once. He'd asked the hypothetical question of, "if each of them was given ten million dollars, what would they do with it."

The answers Bran and Emily had given him had been stock standard. Buy a house, get a job, give some money to charity, help out in the Bunker with what they could without being caught. Emily had wanted to go to school. Nylah had been far more hesitant. She'd seen what he was getting at. She'd talked about finishing her degree, fighting a court battle against the people who'd seized her parents' assets, and getting a place in London. Then, Harry had asked, "What do you do with the other eight million?" As expected, none of them had answers for that. The rich were rich for a reason. They had massive incomes because they had enormous expenses, not the other way around. Oh, he was under no delusions that some (probably most) rich people were assholes, but so were a lot of poor people. There was also the whole, nice rich people don't stay rich for long argument.

No, Harry didn't have anything against the rich and famous. What he did have something against was when people in power abused those beneath them just because they _could._ That he wouldn't tolerate, and fortunately, he had always been rather stubborn. Combine that with his innate bad-assary, and he was generally the one doing the pushing over when someone tried to take advantage of him. Usually.

But now, he was rich, powerful and famous. Three things he'd never thought he'd be. He was the one on the end of the question. What would he do with ten million dollars? Well, the answer, much to his horror, was a disturbing one. He had to be selfish.

He was trapped in a foreign environment, with – as far as he knew – no foreseeable exit strategy available to him. His abductee had already attempted to take Mak away from him once and would most likely try again. To make things worse, he had a highly dangerous objective to complete while he was in his captivity, and his friends and family could potentially be in danger themselves – exposed as they now were to the Wizarding populous. Not particularly good odds.

As such, Harry had no options but to grab a shovel and start digging his way out of the hole he found himself in before someone else started to fill it in from the top. So, he shoved down his pride, and as he made his way back up the rollercoaster, he made a list of the things he needed to do.

The first thing he needed to do was get word to the Bunker somehow. Let them know he was alright at least. Maybe… maybe these Goblins could point him in the direction of a wizard who could provide magical protections against a second magical attack on the Bunker? Like Galadriel did with Lorien or Elrond with Rivendell? That was surely a thing, right?

"Griphook?" Harry asked hesitantly as the goblin led him towards the surface, "Is there such a thing as like, magical shields, or protections for buildings?"

"Yes," the goblin said, "Gringotts employs teams of highly skilled Cursebreakers and Wardbinders for the purpose of protecting residences and businesses. Would you like to avail yourself of these services?" Harry was still trying to get used to the fact that Goblins apparently spoke excellent English. Also, they were bankers. Shouldn't dwarves be the bankers? Were there any dwarves? He really needed to get himself a history textbook.

"Um, depends. Do you only ward magical residences?"

"Any and all dwellings can be warded."

"Well, if I gave you an address, and the correct amount of money, of course, could you protect a home from unwanted wizarding or non-magical incursion. When I was captured, wizards just teleported into the place I was living an attacked. Can that be shielded from?"

"Certainly. We can protect against all means of Apparation, magic detection and unlawful entry." Harry let out a sigh of relief.

"So if I paid one of your teams to go in and ward an underground facility the size of a football field, you could do it?"

"Indeed. If the facility is underground, the price will be lower. However, if disguise in the mortal world is required, an extra fee will be incurred to cover the cost of maintaining the Statute of Secrecy. We will, naturally, have to hide our true forms."

"Of course. Excellent. Can I speak to one of those teams then please?"

Griphook led Harry away from the path back to the main hall, and instead to another, smaller but similarly designed space. When he stepped inside, all the goblins once again fell silent, but Harry was finally getting used to all the stares that seemed to accompany him wherever he went these days.

He outlined what he wanted to the Goblin agent and gave him the Bunker's address and instructions on how to get inside. Then he asked if the Goblins could carry a message, secretly, to the people inside. They'd said yes, for a fee, so Harry had sat down on the side of the room with a quill (a fucking quill! How awesome was that!) and spent the next fifteen minutes trying to write out a quick letter explaining that he was not dead or a runaway. Explaining that they'd all probably had their minds wiped was not easy in the slightest, but they'd been around him long enough to expect impossibilities. Then he had the goblins change a bunch of galleons into two thousand pounds, and gave the letter to the goblin in charge. He cringed at how much money the project would cost, but as Griphook had explained to him, his money reserves were practically endless. His trust vault – the account he could access while still under the age of seventeen – would consistently replenish itself every month from the main Potter Family Vault. Apparently, Harry's grandfather had made a fortune from selling magic hair cream. That was something he would not be telling anyone from the Bunker, lest they start throwing things at him.

With that done, he bade the goblins farewell, Mak said something else in the strange language, and Griphook led him back to the main hall.

"You and I need to have a talk, Mak," Harry said as they reached giant doors marking the exit.

"I know. But I don't think you're going to like what I have to tell you," she said softly, having resumed her seat on his head. The braid she'd made earlier had fallen apart.

"I didn't think I would, but it still needs to be said."

He sighed, "I know."

Harry steeled himself and walked out the doors. Hagrid and Ron were waiting for him.

"Wow mate, You were gone a while," Ron said. Harry thought he detected a hint of jealousy in the boy's baring. He wasn't surprised.

"Don't worry, it was nothing fun. I spent the whole time signing my name over and over again. Apparently being missing fourteen years creates a lot of paperwork." Ron seemed slightly confused, but Hagrid barked a laugh.

"I'll bet it does!"

"Well then," Harry said, adopting an excited air, though he didn't feel it in the least. "First thing's first. Since I'm rich now, I'm going to buy a pair of shoes that fit. You could almost say I'm on the edge of my feet with anticipation!" Hagrid and Ron both stared at him.

"Get it? Shoes? Edge of my feet? No? Never mind." He slapped Ron on the back before leading the way to the first shop that looked like it sold regular people clothes.

The next few hours were an experience unlike any other. It was the first time Harry had ever bought anything for himself in a shop. Actually, it was the first time he'd ever _bought _anything in a shop at all. He had to actually physically stop himself from going to the cheaper and second-hand places. That bloody selfishness. _Rule #2: The easiest way to counter someone's influence over you is to build influence over them. Make yourself important. _If he wanted to escape evil Gandalf's grip, he had to capitalise on his fame. He had to make himself so crucial that Dumbledore wouldn't be able to make decisions for him. His parents had died, turning him into some quazi-wizard superhero. He'd be damned if he didn't put it to good use.

So, he bought clothes. Clothes that would let him look the part. He bought new shirts, and new pants, new jackets and several pairs of shoes. He bought wizard robes – though he couldn't bring himself to buy the ones that were obscene colours, sticking to green and blue at Mak's suggestion. He had Ron and Hagrid explain to him all the potions equipment he needed for first through fourth year (he had the money, may as well use it) and Ron tried to convince him to buy the new Firebolt racing broomstick. Harry had begged off, saying that he'd never used one before, so purchasing the best broomstick on the market was not the best idea. Ron had reluctantly agreed with that statement. He'd offered to buy the broomstick for Ron instead, but Ron had refused, calling it ‘charity' which Harry was forced to admit it was. Done with that, Hagrid led them to the Leaky Cauldron pub for lunch.

Ron… well, there was a lot to be said about Ginny's brother. He and Ginny clearly weren't friends, and he seemed to be a very opinionated person. Harry regretted asking Ron to explain the differences between the Hogwarts houses to him almost immediately. He also asked for suggestions regarding his electives. Ron said he'd picked Divination and Care of Magical Creatures (because they were the two classes with the least amount of homework). Hagrid spent a good half an hour praising his own course, and Harry had to admit between the man's enthusiasm and the fact that learning about magical beasts was quite enjoyable, that the giant did sway him into choosing it. Ron had little to say about Arithmancy and Ancient Runes – "One's about numbers, the other's about glyphs and translating and stuff." Hagrid knew more, but not a lot. Arithmancy sounded suspiciously like Arithmetic but with magic, and Nylah had taught him a bit of that, so he thought he should know enough to get by. Runes seemed like another language, and he'd picked up French easily enough without having the proper materials to learn how to write fluently in it. His German was pretty rusty though. So, he'd decided to take Runes, Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures. Divination sounded like a load of nonsense, and he already knew more about non-magical people than a muggle studies class could teach him.

The fanfare started at lunch. The barkeeper had recognised him, blurting out his name in the middle of the shop. As he was beginning to expect, everyone suddenly went very quiet. Then came the procession. Every wizard and witch in the room came over to Harry at some point during his meal to shake his hand or thank him for his incredible service. He accepted everyone with gratitude and a cheerful smile, regardless of how much it drove him up the wall. Harry made sure to introduce most of the visitors to Ron and Hagrid. He thought Hagrid saw through it, but Ron certainly didn't. The red head looked like he was having the best day of his life.

The next stop was Ollivanders Wand Shop. Boy was that an experience.

Harry stepped into the wand shop alone – Hagrid and Ron had gone on ahead to Flourish and Blots bookshop to see if all the textbooks had been bought or not.

An elderly man with curl white hair sat at the counter fiddling with a series of metal tools and a few pieces of wood. He looked up as the doorbell rang, announcing Harry's entrance.

"Ah. Mr Potter. I had been wondering when you would arrive." Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Is that so?"

"Indeed," the man said. His voice held an odd sense of mystery too it that Harry couldn't help being enraptured by. "You can imagine how disappointed I was when you never appeared after your eleventh birthday – most young wizards rarely wait long. I was so stunned in fact that I checked with the other wand merchants in the other Wizarding Nations. But they hadn't seen you either. So, I was forced to conclude that Professor Dumbledore's story about you being on a secret mission was, in fact, a lie."

Harry nodded with respect. "That's because it was a lie. Unless of course by ‘secret missions' he meant robbing rich people, saving kids from paedophiles or running from cops while trying to feed myself. Oh, and there was that one time I took down a group of guys selling dirty drugs in Barking. That was fun." Ollivander smiled.

"I'm sure that's what he meant."

Harry winked at the man, "Oh, I'm sure your right." Harry stepped up to the desk, eyeing the wand parts. Ollivander quickly slid the mat with the pieces under his desk, and Harry chuckled to himself.

"Very well. Let's see about getting you a wand then." Harry proved to be the best (or worst, depending on your point of view) customer Ollivander had ever had. Wand after wand he tried, each one shocking his hand to some degree. Some were far worse than others. None so much as produced a spark. Ollivander seemed to get more and more excited with every failure. Mak stood on the table, staring at each wand the old wizard pulled out with disdain. After fifteen minutes of trying, Harry's hand was starting to ache something terrible.

"Try this one, Mr Potter," Ollivander said, hesitating for the first time as he held out a new one, this time brown with a black handle. Mak had given up and was now lying on her back, staring at the ceiling.

The second Harry's fingers touched the hilt; the wand exploded. Harry and Ollivander both ducked as splinters of wood shot in all directions, and smoke curled from his fingers. He shook his hand to clear the acrid smell while Ollivander hesitantly looked up from behind the desk. Mak was still lying there.

"Curious. I thought for sure that would be the one." He shook himself, "No matter. We shall continue." Harry groaned as Ollivander vanished into the depths of his shop once more. Dozens more wands were tried, and though none of them had a worse reaction than the holly wand, there still seemed to be nothing that would fit him. Even Ollivander was starting to grow worried after they passed the hour mark. Harry was also nearing his wit's end.

"Fucking hell. Mak, help the poor man!" He exclaimed, yelling at the faerie. Mak sat up, stared at the man as he rummaged near the back, and grumbled.

"Fine." Then she zipped off into the shop, nosing about near the back, where the oldest wands resided. Eventually, she decided on one and began pulling the box free. As Mak was, for the most part, insubstantial, the process took a very long time. But Ollivander eventually caught sight of the box trying to wriggle its own way off his shelf and took it carefully out. It was made from a gold-coloured wood and appeared smooth to the touch. It was one single piece of wood, with no protrusions or dedicated hilt. Without a word, he handed it to Harry. He took it, Mak watching with an anxious air. It was the first one that didn't sting his hand. He felt… an odd connection to it. In fact, in the silence, he thought he could hear the soft ringing of bells – faerie voices.

"This one," Harry said, nodding to Ollivander and Mak. Mak beamed, but Ollivander just looked very intrigued.

"Fascinating. Very fascinating indeed," Ollivander said reverently, "This wand is over six hundred years old. Applewood, a rare wood indeed, and very hard to place. Powerful, but only useful in the hands of one with high ideals and dreams. Often associated with immortality and old magic. Ten inches, but quite brittle. And…" he paused for a moment, scanning Harry, "a core of faerie blood. A scarce substance indeed these days. According to the notes of my ancestors, faerie blood wands only ever bonded to those with whom the blood believes worthy of them. Those with the potential to become Imagineers." Ollivander was staring at him very pointedly now. Harry smiled and handed over his nine galleons – seven for the wand, two for the holster to attach it to his wrist. He took the wand, thanked him, and exited, Mak back on his shoulder.

"Faerie blood?" He said to her as they made their way down the street.

"Its… I think it was something we did for you, back in the old days, so you could use both arts. That's why the other wands didn't work, they could sense the opposing powers. Still gives me the shivers." Harry stopped short. Reporters, dozens of them, were prowling the street, and hundreds of bystanders who hadn't been there when he entered Ollivanders were now crowding around, searching for something. Searching for him. Damn it! The people in the pub had reported his whereabouts! Being famous, totally sucked. Pulling the hood of his new wizard robes up to hide his face, Harry slipped into Flourish and Blots. Ron and Hagrid had a trolley full of books with them. They'd managed to find most of the first- and second-year books, but the third-year ones had mostly been sold out. They'd at least found the ones he needed the electives. He greeted them and warned of the crowd outside. Ron looked excited by the prospect of more people to take his picture, and Scabbers the rat – who had at some point relocated to Ron's jacket pocket – chirped excitedly in agreement. Hagrid looked much more concerned.

"We can't use Professor Dumbledore's portkey from in here. We have to go to the Apparation and Portkey point, which is outside. I'll see about clearing us a path. You pay for these Harry, Ron." Hagrid moved off, nervously fingering his pink umbrella, while Harry made his way to the front desk. He grabbed a history book and a book on Wizarding Government and Politics on the way. The man at the counter recognised him and insisted on offering a discount, so Harry convinced Ron to buy himself any books he wanted. He grabbed one about famous chess games. With his books stowed away in his newly purchased shrinking trunk (that was something he felt no guilt whatsoever at buying), they made their way out into the street. The reporters were waiting for them. This time Harry didn't let Ron talk to anyone. He pulled the redhead boy along towards' Hagrid's bulky form, and they made their way through the surging and screaming crowd. Flash of photo after photo was taken, people tried to thrust microphones at him, and he batted them away. Eventually they reached Hagrid and they touched a string of rope he was holding. Together they vanished in a flash of rainbow light.

* * *

## 2 years ago,

Ginny closed her new Diary and placed it by the side of her bed. The voice of the Diary, Tom, was a lovely conversationalist. He listened to her problems, her insecurities, and he never judged. He even shared some helpful hints for her classes. She was happy to say she was the first person in her class to get the Lumos charm right. Tom had been incredibly proud of her. She kept meaning to send a letter to her mother and father, thanking them for the gift of the Diary, but it kept slipping her mind.

She yawned, leaned back against the pillow, and drifted to sleep.

Her eyes fluttered open to an ashen sky, and she shivered. She was here again. Every few nights since she arrived at Hogwarts, she'd dreamt herself to this _horrible _place. Black skies filled with red lightning; a tiny, sickly, red sun; and a thick grey mud that covered the ground as far as the eye could see. There was no colour, no plants, no animals. Just sludge and the occasional patch of black ice drifting through it. She hated it. It was like the very place seemed to weigh her down. It was a nightmare, but it felt far too real to just be like any other dream. But the thing that scared her most was that she never remembered the dreams when she woke up. But when she was here, she remembered her other visits with perfect clarity.

Ginny pulled herself upright, and the sludge fell away from her dream clothes like water. Then, she began to walk. There was nothing else to do in this place. Nothing to do but walk. Each step was an effort. She had to pull her feet from the wet earth, then place them back down into it again. To heavy a step, and she'd sink through the mud, and her foot would fall into the icy cold liquid that seemed to exist beneath the slime. She didn't know what it was, nor did she care to find out.

Her goal, as it had been every night, was the second sun. She wasn't sure what it was (though it probably wasn't a sun), but there was a blip of pulsing rainbow light in the distance, hovering above the ground. With every pulse, it seemed to change colours. The closer she got to it, the worse the mud became, and the darker the skies turned.

She kept walking.

Soon, her legs began to ache, and she sat herself down on a large colourless boulder jutting up out of the mud. There was nothing to show she'd travelled any distance at all. Everything looked exactly the same. There was just her, the sea of clay, and the rainbow light.

"It is too early." Ginny jolted, spinning around. A voice? A male voice. One she certainly hadn't heard before. She hadn't heard any voices since she'd begun waking up here.

"I do not like waiting, spirit." Another, harsher voice replied. There! Standing in the emptiness almost at the edge of her vision were two figures. One had moulted red and black skin, the other was white, wearing Hogwarts robes.

"You have no choice, child of Gaea. You have no power here. We do not respond to your will. You should count yourself grateful our master has entertained you at all." That was the odd looking one. He had red eyes. Despite the seeming distance, Ginny could see and hear both perfectly well.

"Will I ever get to meet your supposed master?" the student asked, a tone of dissatisfaction entering his voice.

The other thing laughed… was it even human?

"You are far beneath his attention. And as far as he is concerned, you are a failed experiment. He allows your continued existence only because what was given cannot be taken back. Leave this place, Tom Riddle. There is nothing more you can do here." Ginny gasped, and two sets of eyes locked onto her.

Ginny shot upright, breathing ragged, body trembling in fright. She took a deep breath and tried to steady herself. Must have been a bad dream.


	7. Chapter 7

# Chapter 8:

_"I must hurry, the axial tilt will occur in a few days. I took too long in building the Heart-Stone. It was only meant to be a backup in case I failed. With it, our way of life will at least survive the invasion, though I fear I cannot foresee the consequences it may cause."_

_From the Diary of Merlinus Caledonensis; Earth, 537 Common Era._

* * *

Professor McGonagall tapped her wand to the aluminium bracelet, and it unclasped from Harry's wrist. He rubbed at the red rash that had started to come up from his sweat. Harry was beyond furious. The shackle seemed to come off on its own! The whole bloody time! But he couldn't figure out how to replicate the effect. There was no spell involved. Just the act of tapping the wand seemed to release whatever power held it to Harry's wrist. He wanted to bash his head into a wall.

"Ready Mr Potter?" Flitwick asked.

He was standing in the middle of a duelling practice chamber, hidden on Hogwarts sixth floor, with Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Lupin. It was shaped like a large amphitheatre, with sloping stands stretching up to the roof and a raised square platform in the centre of the room. Opposite him stood Professor Flitwick, in professional duelling robes. Pitch black with rune work lining the cuffs, collar and hem. It kind of resembled a trench coat, only way more bad ass. Harry wore a similar set of robes, ordered by Flitwick himself for Harry to use in their training. The half-goblin teacher absolutely loved Harry, for a whole host of reasons. And, Harry admitted he felt a similar affection for the charm's professor. He was the type of teacher you just couldn't help but like.

"Ready," Harry said. McGonagall stood on one side of the ring, Lupin on the other. Flitwick drew his wand, and Harry pulled the familiar rush of static into his body. It was so good to have it back. Mak flew beside him, formed in her armour. Ember sat cross-legged in the air, trembling and biting her lip. No one was allowed to witness Harry's training sessions. That didn't stop the faerie in the slightest (though it put one hell of a bee in Ginny's bonnet).

McGonagall raised her wand, and the sound of gong echoed through the room.

Harry flexed his legs, springing up, reducing the pull of gravity on his limbs through the Fusion Force. Three spells (Harry now knew enough of Enchantment to recognise them: Stupefy, Expelliarmus and another Stupefy) flew through the space he'd been not a moment before. Harry flipped in the air and surged the static through his fingertips. A bubble of Division formed around him, and two more spells were sucked into oblivion. Harry completed his flip, dismissed the shield, and pulled at his fusion. He became four times as massive as he shot feet first at his opponent. Flitwick was forced to duck into a roll as Harry smashed into the stonework, leaving a crater in his wake.

He spun around, pulling into his hand a sphere of electricity. He fired at Flitwick as he finished the roll, but the tiny man caught the blow with a shield. Harry had already moved to his next trick. He flattened his hand, and the ground around Flitwick's feet lost its form, reducing to sludge as the Decay Force melted it away.

Flitwick moved to cast another spell as Harry lunged forward, intending to catch the man in a Strength Force trap (which required physical contact), but McGonagall called "freeze!" and both Harry and Flitwick froze in place. McGonagall stepped up into the ring and waved her wand over the melted stone.

"Fascinating. If anything, I would say this is a partial transfiguration. You've turned the solid into a liquid state but haven't actually transformed it into anything. It's still stone. Can you manipulate it?" McGonagall's biggest goal was to find out why Harry couldn't transfigure anything. Regardless of whether he used Enchantment of Design, he couldn't do it, no matter how hard he tried.

Harry straightened up from his crouch, the fight obviously over, and stepped up beside the professor. Flitwick, despite now having sunk to his knees, seemed just as curious.

Harry held out his hand, and applied a soft touch with the Fusion Force, making the liquid stone rise up out of the ground like two tentacles. As he did so, the rock around Flitwick's legs decreased.

"I can't make anything new. But I can use Fusion to shape what I have," he explained. Professor Lupin stood behind them with his clipboard, scribbling frantically. It was his job to record everything Harry did with his powers so they could go back over the notes later and analyse it. A lot of the things Harry did were instinctive, and they'd found reproducing the effects the same way twice didn't always work out right.

Harry was still a bit confused by Lupin. The man had supposedly known his parents, but for the whole first month of his stay at Hogwarts, he'd ignored Harry like the plague. At least now, after a month of secret training with the lost art of the Imagineers, he would actually speak to him, those he wasn't as friendly as Flitwick or McGonagall.

"Hmm. Theoretically, if you can influence the chemical bonds of matter to convert a solid to a liquid, you should be able to rearrange electron patterns to reshape the atomic structure of the elements present…" She trailed off, and Harry restored the ground, so Flitwick didn't fall through the floor. The duelling master nodded to him.

"Excellent precision, Mr Potter. And the flip was well executed. Aided by Fusion?"

"Yeah. But I had to let it slacken to pull up the shield."

"Yes. A potential weakness. A wizard can hold a Protego while casting other spells – depending on their relative skill and power. If you can't…"

"Sitting duck," Harry finished.

"Indeed." He ran a hand under his chin, "Perhaps, instead of the leap, you can stay on the ground, but dodge the opening volley with your friction power. It doesn't present the issue we found with shielding first, nor does it leave you exposed as much as the aerial manoeuvre. But not useful in an enclosed space."

"I'll try it in the next bought," Harry said, thinking about how to use Strength and Division at the same time. The two weren't opposing like Fusion and Division were, which meant he'd have an even harder time of maintaining the shield and the slide if he needed it. No. The shield would be a setback if he tried it. If he used Strength from the outset, he'd have to rely on dodging. Or maybe he could try the air-based Decay wave he'd used against the Aurors. But it travelled slowly and would continue onwards to interact with the environment if not interrupted. He wasn't particularly comfortable about using decay against a gaseous substance, as it did release radiation as the particles broke down, and he didn't want to be responsible for causing unintentional damage.

"Perhaps," McGonagall said, still staring at the floor, "it is a matter of combing talents. Strength to bind and Decay to remove. If you used both at the same time, maybe you could rearrange the matter into the form desired?"

Harry shook his head, "Using two forces at once greatly reduces what I can do. It's one at a time, or both will be reduced in strength."

"Hmm… then perhaps it isn't using the two forces separately that is the issue. I will think about this." She glanced at her watch and sighed.

"As much as I would love to continue, my sixth years will no doubt be wondering where I am soon." Harry took a cool cloth conjured by Professor Flitwick and dabbed his forehead. Professor McGonagall pulled out the shackle and replaced it on his wrist. The static vanished from him, and Harry sighed in frustration.

"Professor, I've been meaning to ask. Will the shackle stop me from going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?" McGonagall looked at him in suspicion. Harry blushed, red rising to his cheeks.

"I wanted to take Ginny on a date is all. But if you say no, I'll stay here." McGonagall's face softened instantly, and Harry gave an internal whoop of triumph. He did want to take Ginny on a date, but he also had an ulterior motive.

"Well," she said, slightly flustered, "No. It won't let you leave the grounds, but… but, as a reward for all the hard work you've been putting in with us and in your regular classes, I don't see the trouble in letting you go without it. You have to put it back on when you get back, of course."

"Certainly," Harry agreed.

"Minerva," Lupin said hesitantly, "What about Sirius?"

"I'm sure the Dementors are keeping him well away, Remus. I think Harry has earned a break, not to mention, Miss Weasley could use some fresh air." She turned back to Harry, "I'm very proud of you in that regard, Mr Potter. Getting Miss Weasley to come out of her shell after… after what happened is quite the achievement. Getting her out will be good for her."

"Besides," Flitwick said, taking off his robe and draping it over the railings separating the stands from the sunken floor, "without that inhibitor, I dare say Mr Potter could wipe the floor with not only Black but at least half the population of Azkaban. Maybe even two thirds if he had the element of surprise." Harry swelled at the praise.

"Well, there certainly is that," Lupin agreed. Then he smiled softly, "Go, Harry. Enjoy your date. Eat some chocolate for me." It was the first time Lupin had called him by first name. Harry grinned.

"Thanks, Professors." He grabbed his book bag off the floor.

"Just remember to be back before the delegations arrive," McGonagall said as he headed for the door.

"Oh, don't worry, Professor. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

* * *

Ginny was having what was quite possibly the best day of her life. She was, as of that very moment, walking down the cobblestone main street of Hogsmeade – her first visit, mind you – on the arm of one Harry Potter: certified bad-ass and wizarding heart throb. And it was a date. A _proper _date. With holding hands, visits to shops (Harry had bought her several to die for treats from Honeydukes even after she'd told him not to) and now they were heading to the Three Broomsticks for a late lunch, timed so there would be fewer crowds. Harry was being the complete gentleman, holding doors, letting her choose where they went. He'd even asked Fred and George to organise a grand distraction so that Harry's ever-present fan-club wouldn't be hounding them. It was any girls dream… and Ginny wasn't sure she deserved any of it.

She still hadn't told him what had happened to her. He hadn't asked, but he had to be wondering. What stories had he heard? Why was he even giving her the time of day? But no. She wasn't going to dwell on that. She'd been good the last few weeks. Working with Harry, studying with him, partnering with him in classes. He let her, and only her, use his private room. Harry's presence and his charisma had motivated her to actually try in her studies. The previous day she'd received her first homework grade better than an Acceptable since the beginning of her first year. Before the Diary. Before Tom. Even thinking about it left her shivering. No. She wouldn't let _him_ ruin her perfect day. Even Ember and Mak, their ever-present companions, had agreed to some alone time. She thought Harry might have given them a mission of some sort, but she couldn't be sure.

"You okay?" Harry asked suddenly, cutting through the crisp fall air and breaking Ginny from her thoughts.

"Yeah. Yeah, why?"

"You went a little pale for a second there," he observed. Ginny flushed.

"It's nothing. Just thinking about how much better my life has been since you came to Hogwarts." Harry smiled softly.

"It wasn't me, Ginny. You always had the power to pull yourself out of your despair, you just needed a reason. I can't think of anything better than preparing to rescue helpless faeries." She nodded; not sure she believed his words. It was his power – his presence – that had drawn her back out of the shell she'd hidden inside. She didn't have any power. Tom had taken that from her.

They approached the Three Broomsticks, and Harry opened the door for her. She smiled graciously before selecting a table near the corner to minimalize the chance of being seen. Madam Rosmerta came to take their orders. Ginny ordered before Harry could interject. She'd long since learned that if she didn't force him to eat or drink, he had a tendency to simply forget to do either. And considering his clear malnourishment, that was something he definitely couldn't afford. As a result, she'd channelled her mother (something she'd previously promised herself she'd _never _do) and forced him to eat three meals a day. He could still only eat minute portions without becoming sick, but she was making progress.

Harry smirked at her Madam Rosmerta walked off. Ginny blushed and asked the question on her mind to divert him.

"So, you said you've been working on a plan?"

Harry grinned. "Oh yeah. I've figured it out. Tomorrow night, when Dumbledore is all wrapped up in the Triwizard Tournament selection, will be the perfect time to sneak into his office and steal the artefacts. I'll take them and hide them. When Dumbledore realises they're gone, it'll be too late." He leaned back in his chair as two Butterbeers were delivered to them.

"Okay," she said hesitantly, "but where will you hide them? He's bound to suspect you after all."

"True," Harry admitted, "which is why I'm going to hide them in Ron's trunk. Between that, and the fact my bloody shackle will be still on when he finds me, I should be in the clear. Besides, it only has to last one night. The next day, I don't plan on sleeping until I've rescued those faeries. Faeries don't have a physical body. Their kind of like… like mental projections of pure thought. So, if I destroy the objects themselves, it should release them." Ginny nodded rapidly, growing eager.

"What can I do?" she asked.

"Dumbledore. I need you to watch him like a fucking hawk. If he so much as twitches wrong during the feast, I want you to send Ember to warn me, and I'll bail." She nodded rapidly, but something was nagging at her.

"It can't be that easy, can it?" She asked.

Harry shrugged.

"I don't think Dumbledore has a very high opinion of me. That, plus how he expects everyone to just do as he tells them, means he has a tendency to underestimate his adversaries." Harry sipped his Butterbeer hesitantly and swallowed, a look of surprise on his face.

"That's not bad actually. Is there alcohol in this?"

"Not sure." They lapsed into companionable silence as their lunch came. Once again, Ginny was forced to make sure Harry ate at least half of what was on his plate. When they finished, Harry stood up, took her hand, and led them from the restaurant… straight into the flash of cameras.

What happened next occurred so fast Ginny had to go back and process it all later. The second Harry opened the door, a blast of white light went off in their faces, blinding the pair of them. Ginny was so shocked her brain shut down for a precious few seconds. Harry's did not. As soon as the flash occurred, Harry thrust his hand forward, making a flicking gesture with his fingers. The camera man, the woman in a bright green coat with curly blonde hair beside him, and the two dozen other reporters and camera crews, all flew backwards as if hit by a blast wave. The paparazzi crashed on top of each other, and the crushing of numerous cameras echoed through the street as they struck stone. Harry grabbed her around the waist, pulling her into his chest and sucking the breath out of her. Then the ground vanished from under them.

She finally figured out how to scream.

They hurtled into the sky, Hogsmeade becoming a tiny blip on the ground within seconds. Across from them, the Black Lake sparkled in the sunlight. Ginny clung to Harry as tightly as she could, ragged breathing, face buried in his chest. They passed into a cloud, and Harry slowed them to a stop. She tried to suck in a breath of air but coughed instead as she found almost nothing to draw in.

"Don't breathe deeply. Their air is too thin for it up here," Harry said softly. She tried to slow her rapid heart. It didn't work. Instead, she clutched Harry tighter. Rationally, she knew that if she let go, Harry would catch her. However, rational thought was still a bit beyond her at this point.

Ginny wasn't sure how long they stayed there, floating in the sky with their arms around one another, but eventually, she started to calm down, and then the butterflies in her stomach found a whole other reason to be imitating a cyclone. She pulled her head out of the crook of his shoulder and blushed scarlet.

"We're flying," she whispered.

"Yeah. We've been flying for several minutes now," he confirmed. She pulled her eyes away from his face, full of mirth at her embarrassment, and looked down. The cloud had passed, and the sun was starting to sink towards the horizon. Hogwarts, looking small enough to be a toy below them, was bathed in golden light.

"It's beautiful," she said.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is." She didn't notice that Harry wasn't staring at the view as he said the words.

"We should probably head back…"

"Right," Ginny said, rapidly nodding her head. She was just now getting around to wishing she had a broom. Then…

"Can you teach me? Can I learn to fly?!"

Harry beamed, before beginning to lower them to the ground.

"I'm amazed it took you that long to ask," He told her.

"I didn't think about it. I mean, you haven't been allowed to use, um, our type of magic, around me, so it kind of just slipped my mind." Harry chuckled as Hogwarts grew beneath them. Slowly, elegantly, they drifted towards the castle gates, where Fred and George were serenading the Gryffindor Quidditch Girls with about how their prank had gone.

"So then we transfigured Malfoy into a ferret and… Oh heya Harry," Fred said, seeing them just casually float out of the sky without brooms. The others all turned towards to stare in the direction Fred was looking, and the girl's jaws all dropped open. George just elbowed his brother, and Ginny groaned internally. She was never going to live this down.

Their feet touched down on the dirt, and Harry steadied her.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Yeah. Brilliant," she breathed, her voice coming out huskier than she meant it too. Harry flushed slightly, but it was gone in a second, replaced by his charismatic and cheerful persona. The mask she'd since realised was his default facial expression, designed to hide what he was really thinking.

"Wow…" Alicia whispered in awe.

"You can really fly without a broom!" Angelina exclaimed.

"Yeah. It's not that hard," Harry said flippantly, taking Ginny's arm and subtly guiding the group through the gates.

"You know Harry," George said, the evil grin on his face announcing to the world that his next words were not going to be anything Ginny would like to hear, "I've heard of this thing called the Mile-High Club. I don't suppose you and our darling sister just joined it did you?" Katie choked on air, and Fred looked about ready to burst with laughter. Ginny frowned. _Mile-High Club?_ Was it a sports thing? Harry laughed.

"That, my good friends, is for us to know, and you to guess at." He winked at them, and the twins broke into hysteria. Together they walked towards through the gates and made their way towards Hogwarts for the processions.

Best day ever.

Then the sun flashed green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya Guys, Miracle here (We’ve just arrived at Ghost’s parents’ house, and he’s asleep on the bed behind me). So sorry for being late, but we’ve had a big weekend, and were a tad busy. Ghost asked me to marry him! I haven’t stopped smiling for three days.   
So, here’s how this is going to affect you guys. We are going to be going on hiatus starting the back end of November. We were going to be going on break anyway because we planned to go backpacking across Europe. We’ve decided, that, as we were already planning to go, we’re going to merge the trip we’ve planned with our Honeymoon. We don’t know what time we’ll be coming back online.   
As a result, we will absolutely have Gemini Curse finished and posted 100% before we leave. Shards of Heaven, unfortunately, will have to go on hiatus. However, we plan to post all the chapters we have in the vault before we leave, which is up to chapter fifteen or so, depending on if we write anymore before we go.  
I want to apologise, on behalf of the pair of us, to all of our fans and readers who will be inconvenienced by this. We absolutely love writing these stories and have every intention of coming back to Shards of Heaven, and we are going to get started on the sequel novella to Gemini Curse: Harry Potter and Blessing of the Phoenix. But we’ve been preparing for this trip for a long time, and we don’t know how much, if any, time we’ll have on the road for writing, or how steady our ability to post will be.   
Thanks, so much for your understanding, and we can’t wait to bring you the grand finale of Gemini Curse, and all we have for Shards of Heaven.  
Love Miracle and Ghost.


	8. Chapter 8

# Chapter 7:

_"Marilyn can feel something from within the tomb. Something powerful. I feel it too. Something, or I should think, someone, is using a great amount of both Enchantment and Design below. But she says there is something else, a third force, distinct from the magical arts we know of. A force of hate."_

_From the Diary of Merlinus Caledonensis; Earth, 537 Common Era._

* * *

Harry's September was far harder than it should have been. He was placed in first year, as Dumbledore had said he would be. But Harry didn't think he was having as easy a time of it as Dumbledore predicted he would. Using the faerie blood wand thankfully allowed him to at least use the strange magic without his hand going numb, and he got most of the spells the teachers taught him on his first try, but the homework… the homework was really killing him. He spent hours longer trying to write his essays, and often he threw them out because his handwriting was so poor even _he_ couldn't read it. He'd never spent time getting comfortable with writing, he hadn't had the means, and using a quill and ink only made it worse. Things got slightly better when he managed to steal a normal everyday ink pen from a sixth year (he could use the ink from his inkwells to refill it), but he still spent most of his nights writing and rewriting – with a dictionary borrowed from the library so he could check spellings. He made great use of his French curse words – the conservative Wizards seemed especially affronted by his continued and inventive uses of the word ‘fuck' as a noun, verb, interjection, adjective, adverb and even as an article.

It also didn't help that everyone in first year (except the Slytherins) wanted to partner up with him. On some days he even had to break up fights. Every time one started, he went and profusely apologised to the teacher of the class.

Professor Flitwick loved him. He would hold Harry back after his classes so they could discuss charms and duelling. Harry didn't mind. He liked Flitwick, and Charms was by far his favourite subject. It was from Flitwick that he and Mak finally got a comprehensive explainer of the two Magical Arts. Flitwick explained that the Art of Enchantment was initially comprised of six disciplines – Abjuration (magic concerning defence and healing), Conjuration (magic concerned with creation or summoning), Transmutation (magic pertaining to the transformation of substance or perception), Divination (magic referring to the manipulation or discernment of the past or future), Necromancy (magic concerning the manipulation of life and death) and Evocation (magic concerning destruction). Most modern wizards used the word enchantment simply to speak about any magical effect. In the present, the old six discipline system wasn't adhered to. Instead, magic was taught depending not on its original intent, but on its result.

The Art of Design – Harry's brand of magic – was apparently extinct in the modern era. At some point in history, Wizardkind had lost the ability to use it. Numerous old texts still spoke of it, and the six forces employed by its users, called Imagineers – Charge, Life, Strength, Decay, Fusion and Division. According to Flitwick, all sources agreed that users of Design all had a strange affinity with those of the faerie blood. Harry had an inkling of why the art might have been lost. The Pact of Truth. With no faeries, you couldn't have any new Imagineers. He'd thought about telling Flitwick this, but Mak had asked him not to. She was already annoyed that so many people knew about her, and wanted to try and keep a tighter grip on the information from now on.

He was relatively good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, though they'd only learnt three spells in the class as yet: the Disarming Charm, the Shield Charm, and the Stunning Spell. Professor Lupin, the one who apparently knew Harry's parents, had yet to say a single word to him, in or out of class. He wouldn't even meet Harry's eyes. He decided that if Lupin didn't want to talk with him, Harry was glad to let him. At least there was one person in the bloody castle that wanted nothing to do with him.

History of Magic… well the less said about that catastrophe, the better. Basically, Binns was an idiot and Harry spent the lessons writing his homework for other classes. Astronomy was what he expected it to be. Up late, staring at stars and identifying constellations. Herbology was alright he supposed; if you enjoyed learning about plants. Harry was a deft hand at it, owing to his years of experience in the Dursleys garden, and Professor Sprout commended him on his outstanding ability to tell which plants were poisonous and which weren't. He didn't have the heart to tell her he wasn't a Herbology genius, just someone who'd gone through a lot of trial and error.

Transfiguration was where he struggled the most, and his after-class sessions with Professor McGonagall had nothing to do with extra credit and all to do with passing. No matter what he or Professor McGonagall tried, he couldn't perform even the simplest transfiguration. His match remained a match. It was only after he noticed Professor McGonagall staring at Harry's shackle that he realised.

"I can't do it because Design doesn't allow for transfiguration. I've never been able to transform an object into something that it isn't, only bend its shape and nature. A stone floor can become a wall, but it can't become a duck." Professor McGonagall had agreed with this but said there should still be a way. She excused him from her classes towards the end of the month so she could do some research into the matter.

Harry went to two class of Potions. If it had just been the verbal attack the first day, or his general attitude, Harry wouldn't have cared, though it was still pathetic. No. Harry wouldn't let himself be in a room with Severus Snape because the oily haired motherfucker had tried to mind-read him. Harry, Mak and Snape all learned the same thing that day. Harry's bond to the faerie not only allowed him to see lies, it also protected him against mental manipulation. Both of them had been blown across the dungeons classroom when the man tried it. After that, Harry refused to attend a single potions class. It was only after Professor McGonagall made him explain why he wasn't going, that she convinced him to try again – on the condition that she supervise in secret – using her cat form – to ensure Snape didn't try anything again.

No surprise. He did. He started a lecture about why being famous didn't mean you could skip classes, took 50 house points from him, then in the middle of his talk, attempted again to read Harry's mind. The resulting explosion caused poor Demelza Robbins to lose every hair on her body. Professor McGonagall had been furious, and the incident was all over the school within the hour. Harry was exempted from all future potion lessons.

Harry's three elective classes were held with the third years, which meant he had Ginny in two of the three – Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes. Apparently, Ginny's eldest brother Bill was a Cursebreaker and had convinced her to take the class. Harry worked with Ginny in both – as otherwise she was left alone. He found he enjoyed the time he spent with her. So much so that, aside from Charms, the classes he had with her were the ones he enjoyed the most.

He was decent at Runes. He had been right, it wasn't much different to learning a new language, though being able to write out words made it so much easier. Care of Magical Creatures was fun for a whole other reason. Hagrid may not have been the best teacher, but he clearly loved his job, which more than made up for his questionable methods. In his first month alone he got to meet Hippogriffs, Nifflers and Occamys. He and Ginny had begged Hagrid for the chance to take care of the Nifflers, but he'd explained – with no small degree of reticence – that while he loved their enthusiasm, that was a fifth-year assignment.

That left Arithmancy, which was so easy he could do it in his sleep. The class was made up of mostly Purebloods, which meant that none of them had learnt any maths. At all. So far, the only thing they'd covered was the order of operations. He'd said as much to Professor Vector, and she'd admitted it was a problem she faced every year. She relished the few Muggleborns and half-bloods who chose the class. Harry and Mary Lou Sanderson from Ravenclaw were both Half-Blood and both from the human world. By virtue of being the only students who even knew what algebra was, they instinctively partnered up and spent most of the class working on problems at the back of the room.

He was ever thankful for the private room though. He could lock the door, which was the only way to keep his ‘fan-club' off him. It consisted mostly of girls – though there were some guys too (looking at you Colin and Dennis) – from first through to fifth year. Only the two NEWT level years had no one following him. And it wasn't limited to Gryffindor either – though they certainly made up the highest percentage. Nope, there were Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws as well. The problem he faced was that he wanted to be kind to everyone. He would engage the regulars in conversation, ask about their days, their classes – partly because he felt awkward walking around with them and not speaking, partly because he didn't want to be rude. But because he was so accommodating, his legend only grew, drawing more and more people. It was a perpetuating cycle that Mak found hilarious. Ginny thought the craziest thing about it was that he still wanted to spend time with her when he had all these other people around him, fawning over him. He'd laughed and told her that was precisely why he did hang around with her. Ron tried to get close to him, but he seemed terrified of Ginny, and as such was nowhere to be found when Ginny was nearby. He didn't mind really, he much preferred Ginny's witty humour to Ron's sucking up. It also hadn't taken long to figure out Ron was most likely on Evil Gandalf's payroll.

Only the Slytherins never went near him, though many looked like they wanted to. Ginny explained to him that Slytherin House had a dark reputation because Voldemort and most of the Death Eaters – his lackeys – had come from that house, and most of the students there now were sons and daughters of the Death Eaters that escaped being sent to prison by virtue of being rich or Pureblood. It was also apparently, Draco Malfoy's fault. The platinum blonde twit had gotten it in his head to hate Harry for… reasons? Harry hadn't even spoken to the man. Nobody he talked to could agree on why, but Malfoy was apparently using his sway in Slytherin to order a strict ban on any communication with Harry or those he spoke too.

Ginny explained a lot of things about Wizarding Culture to him, most of them highly disturbing. Ginny was the only person he let study in his private room with him; they spent a great deal of time watching the logs burn in the fire, practising their Ancient Runes. He also helped her out with her Muggle Studies homework. Mak and Ember would often vanish to… wherever it was they went when not with Harry or Ginny when the pair of them were together.

So, Harry's September was consumed with frantic study; learning how to write correctly; being nice to his crazy stalkers; Ginny; avoiding his mind-reading professor; hanging out with his cool professors; Ginny; being worried about Mak; more Ginny; handling being famous; and did he mention hanging out with Ginny?

He was summoned, once again, to the Headmaster's Office after Breakfast on the first of October.

When he entered, Professor Dumbledore was already present, with Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Lupin standing beside his desk. _Okay? _

"Harry," Dumbledore said, "please take a seat." Harry did as he was bid, Mak on his shoulder, and sat down on one of the plush armchairs in the round room, facing the desk.

"Harry, I've just been speaking with your teachers concerning your progress so far this term, and I have to say, you've certainly made a splash."

"Thank you, I think?" Dumbledore chuckled.

"Professor Sprout, Professor Vector, Professor Sinestra, Professor Flitwick and Professor Lupin have all given permission for you to move up into the second-year classes, provided you read through the coursework for the rest of first year." Harry nodded.

"Thank you, Professor, Professors," he said, directing his thanks to Dumbledore, then to Flitwick and Lupin, both of whom nodded in return.

"Professor McGonagall has informed me of your issues with Professor Snape, and you will be pleased to know that I have reprimanded him severely and am certain he will not attempt such actions again. At the feast this evening, Professor Snape will give you a formal apology, in front of the entire school." Harry resisted the urge to smirk, though Mak did a little dance on his shoulder. "I have also been contacted by a previous associate of mine, former Professor and now famous Potioneer, Horace Slughorn, who has expressed interest in teaching you his highly acclaimed potions course through private lessons to catch you up to where you should be. If you are amenable, I will let him know, and he should be available to start classes with you after Halloween." Harry paused, thinking about it. He'd read through his Potions textbook, and the class did seem worthwhile. Plus, turning down private lessons with a Potioneer would be rather stupid, even if the only reason he'd gotten them was because of who he was.

"Of course, I'll be willing. It's certainly not an opportunity to pass up," he said. That and it would put a burr in Snape's hat.

"Excellent. I'll send the reply this evening." Then Dumbledore's expression deepened slightly.

"Harry, Professor McGonagall has related to me your troubles with Transfiguration and your theory as to why this might be. After engaging in some research of my own, I have concluded that you are right. However, I believe that, even with your unique brand of magic, transfiguration should be achievable. Therefore, I will permit you to be excused from further transfiguration classes. Instead, in the company of Professors Flitwick and Lupin, and occasionally myself if I have the time, we will attempt to discern what exactly your limits are." Harry's eyebrows went very high indeed at that statement. He hadn't been able to remove the shackle on his own, and here Dumbledore was offering to remove it for him?

"Understand that I am placing a great deal of trust in you. If you break this trust, the lessons will be terminated immediately. The binder will remain on until we are sure you will not attempt to run away and are comfortable that you can control your powers." Harry sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Very well. I have not yet explained to Professors Flitwick or Lupin of what it exactly is you will be attempting to learn. I felt that it was not my place to share." His tone implied he expected Harry to share the secret of his own volition. He didn't make the obscene gesture he wanted to at the statement. He was getting what he wanted after all, and if Flitwick and McGonagall could teach him more about his powers, he certainly wasn't going to turn it down.

"Mak," he said, "could you become visible, please?"

"Only because you asked nicely," she said. Harry didn't see any change in her, but Flitwick gasped in shock, and Lupin's jaw fell open slightly.

"That's impossible," Flitwick exclaimed, "the Pact of Truth…"

"Still holds," Dumbledore assured, "I checked the Heart-Stone myself. It remains as strong as the day it was forged, and the Pact remains active. I do not understand how it is possible, only that it is."

"That's why you asked me about Enchantment and Design. You're an Imagineer!" Flitwick said.

Harry held up his right arm. "Not at the moment I'm not."

"_Illa est un teneb ira_," Mak said, pointing at Dumbledore. Flitwick flinched, but the others didn't know what she meant.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I leave this study in your hands Minerva, Filius. I doubt I'll have much time to give you, but I will do my best."

"Why not?" Harry asked before he could stop himself.

Dumbledore sighed, "that is the third reason I called you here today, Harry. I imagine this news will be all over the papers by tomorrow, but you deserve to know before the rest. This morning I received word from Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry. Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban Prison, the first person to have ever done so, and is now at large somewhere in Britain." Harry frowned.

"He's the guy who…" he drew his finger across his neck.

"Crude, but yes. He is the one who betrayed your parents to Voldemort. What's worse is that, and this is the part that won't make the papers, for the past few weeks, Black has been refusing meals and muttering a single repeated phrase in his sleep. The words, spoken to me in confidence by Cornelius, were ‘He's at Hogwarts.' I can only assume that he is talking about you, Harry."

Harry huffed, folding his arms.

"Fabulous. I've got a madman after me now too. I don't suppose that will get this clamp of my wrist? I can't fight him if I've got my hands and legs tied behind my back." Professor Lupin, who looked even paler than usual, flinched.

"You will not be fighting Black, Harry. Minister Fudge has ordered Dementors, the guards of Azkaban, to the Hogwarts grounds. Black will find getting inside the castle to be quite a difficult feat to attempt. That, and we will have increased Auror security as part of the Triwizard Tournament which will be starting a few weeks from now when the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students arrive." He turned his eyes on Harry.

"Harry, I must ask you not to enter the Tournament, however much you might like to. If entered, I cannot guarantee your protection…"

"I don't need your protection, Headmaster. I've spent my entire life looking out for myself and protecting others. I've fought rapists, thieves and drug runners. Hell, I've even done some of my own thievery now and again. But in this case, I actually agree with you. I know, amazing. Entering the tournament would be colossally stupid. And I didn't intend to enter anyway. I've already got more than enough on my plate with catching up on my studies. To be honest, I've actually found myself enjoying most of them, so you can quell your fears of me running away. I have decided that I am actually getting more out of you, then you are getting out of me; therefore, it is in my best interest to stay put. And if, as you say, Black is after me, having numerous bodies between him and me is always a good idea."

Dumbledore scanned him for several seconds, no doubt trying to decide if he was lying. He wasn't, ironically. He actually was enjoying himself. The classes, if hard, were actually forcing him to put effort in. His writing was getting better, he was learning more about himself, and he was making a lot of new friends. Then there was Ginny. He didn't want to leave her behind to fall back into her depression, and… well, he just enjoyed her company really.

"Very well," Dumbledore finally said. "I'll have your new time-table put together and delivered to you by tomorrow. Go, enjoy your weekend." Harry bade farewell to the teachers and exited the office. Thankfully, his fan-club had vanished, dispersing to do other things after he took too long to come back out. Harry, relishing a chance for privacy, made his way out of the castle and towards the Black Lake, Mak flittering along beside him. He eventually found a secluded spot beneath an English Oak, and sat down, leaning against the trunk. He stayed that way for a while, just listening to the rippling of the water. Mak vanished at one point, probably going to see if Ginny was doing anything more exciting than him.

Eventually, he heard steps coming up behind him.

"Hi Gin," he said softly. Ginny groaned as she sat down and put her back to the tree.

"Why are you out here?"

"Thinking about the madman who's trying to kill me."

He recounted his conversation with Dumbledore, Mak providing emphasis and interjection where necessary. When he was done, he turned towards Mak and Ember, who were hovering together in the sky.

"Alright, Mak, I've given you a month to get your head straight. Time to spill. We need to know what's going on with you."

She sighed, sitting cross-legged in the air.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I still don't understand it very well. My memory is full of holes. It's hard, and it's driving me nuts. I have the answers, but they're just out of reach." She fixed her eyes on them.

"Faeries, and the other ancient faerie peoples, like the Goblins, the House Elves and the Veela, all come from a place called the Valley. Or, we call it the Valley. It's a… I guess you could say it's a realm of thought. We were created by the imagination, the dreams, of humanity here on Earth – we draw power from your dreams, your desires, and your goals. I don't know how, but eventually, we figured out how to travel from the Valley to your world. But the trip… we leave some of ourselves behind when we do it."

"Your memories," Ginny guessed.

"Exactly. Even, in some cases, our personality, our entire awareness. When that happens, the faeries who make it tend to become base, or animal like. They're drawn to strong dreams, or failed ones, and as a result, get blamed for causing either the good or bad result. Though I think the stories about tricksters are probably right. Either way, the Pact of Truth – a stupid name for it really, it was a death sentence – was created because wizards thought we were causing their problems. You know what happened when we all vanished. Nothing! All their shit still kept going wrong." She took a breath, calming herself.

"We tried to flee into your world before it was put in place. The Goblins and the House Elves succeeded, but there were side effects. The House Elves became depended on people. They forged bonds similar to my bond with you to anchor them to this world. Without them, the elves begin to wither. They're pulled back into the Valley, where they are trapped, and die."

"The House Elf bond," Ginny breathed, looking sick, "Now we take advantage of them."

"Sort of. They really do like to serve. It's part of their reason for being after all. But yes." Harry shivered.

"The Goblins got off easier. They created a bond with the treasure they hoarded. Their existence is tied to their ability to gain riches and preserve them. It isn't about quantity, just the act itself. It's why they've set themselves up as bankers. It's the perfect job really, they collect and protect gold for the sake of the gold, not because they're particularly selfish or anything."

"What about the others?" Harry asked.

"The Veela tried to anchor themselves with love. They mated with humans, hoping that their bonds would hold them here. They were wrong." Mak drooped her head. "Only their offspring remain."

"It's just us now," she said softly, "but even we won't remain for long. I remember… ships. Piloted by others. Like us but born of some other power. They came, and we started to flee. Better than dying. That's as far as my memory goes. I can't remember how I made it here, or why I decided to come. But I remember something, something chasing me." Mak glanced towards the sky and fell silent.

"And the language?" Harry asked, eventually.

"Ours. A derivative of Latin. We didn't have a language before we started coming here, so we created one, based off yours."

"What was it the Goblins called you, Masella de something?"

"_Masella de tastheria. _It means daughter of Imagination. An honorific once used for the court of faeries."

They lapsed into silence once more. No more needed to be said, at least not now. Harry and Ginny's hands remained clasped, and Mak and Ember both ending up sitting atop them, crying on each other's shoulders for a home and a people they'd lost.

* * *

## Barking, London.

Emily sat with her legs tucked under her knees, watching her father, Bran, as he read Harry's letter for the tenth time. They were sitting around the firepit in the centre of the Bunker with the rest of the defacto leadership. Or… well, there wasn't much to lead really. Half of the population had gone missing, leaving their belongings behind. They'd tried to find everyone who'd fled, but most had gone to ground somewhere. They'd found a few desperate enough to come back, but they were very few. At most, fifty people remained in the Bunker, most of them people who'd been captured when the Aurors attacked. People who couldn't remember they'd been attacked at all.

Whatever those people had done, they'd wiped people's memories of the whole thing. Not only of the attack but of Harry as well. He had vanished clean from their minds. As if he had never even existed at all. Only Bran, Emily, Sammy, Nylah, and a few others who'd escaped and come back recalled the black-haired green-eyed boy with the incredible smile and a heart of gold. Adam, despite them trying, couldn't remember a thing about Harry. But the thing was, he had empty spots, blank holes where the others would describe an event Harry took part in, that didn't add up. Tam… Tam wouldn't remember anything.

The attack, it had been too much for his body to handle. He'd had a heart attack, and nobody had been there for him. It made her want to throw-up all over again. They'd buried him under cover of darkness in a plot overlooking the Bunker, his legacy. What was left of it? Now, Harry was gone, imprisoned by - in his words - "an evil incarnation of Gandalf, with both the hat and the magic wand." She believed him. She'd seen the man, same as her father, the day that Harry had fought off the Aurors. The day that he'd… no! She would not start crying again.

That morning, while Nylah had been using up the last of their meagre supplies, pilfered and ransacked by panicking people in the chaos, a knock had come from the sewer entrance. When they'd opened the door, a man in a perfectly tailored business suit, completely bald, with dark sunglasses on despite the total darkness in the tunnel, had stepped inside. He said he was an agent from Gringotts Banking International, sent by Harry to provide magical protections for the Bunker against potential attacks. Apparently, Harry had – despite his vanishing – found the money to pay for such a thing, and the man and his team (who'd appeared out of nowhere, just like the Aurors had) went to work immediately. None of the Bunker residents had been able to tell what exactly they did, but the black-suits had restored the train station entrance – which Harry had sealed in their escape – and cleared out the stairway entrance. They had even put up what they called a ‘ward' around the property above – the abandoned manor house – so that, to an observer, it would always appear dark and neglected, and any ‘muggle' attempting to gain access without permission would suddenly become confused and disorientated, forgetting why they had gone to the place at all. No one had believed them. But testing it revealed that anyone trying to enter the manor by the climbing the walls or the front gate, simply turned around and walked away until someone else stopped them. But, if they entered the manor grounds via the stairs from the Bunker, they were fine. They'd set a watch in the old house, but no one had yet dared to move up there.

Finally, the lead black-suit have given Bran an envelope and left. An envelope containing two thousand pounds and a letter from Harry himself.

_Bran, Nylah, Tam and Adam._

_Whichever of you is reading this, know that I am alive and as well as I can be. The people who attacked us are witches and wizards. Apparently, they've been living as a secret hidden society for hundreds of years, and my parents were members. It's hard to explain, and I don't have a lot of time before people come to look for me, but I'm in the wizarding bank. My parents were rich, and I've organised for the bankers to send some people to the Bunker to protect it from other witches and wizards in the future. _

_An evil incarnation of Gandalf, with both the hat and the magic wand, has me trapped in his fortress/castle/school (no, I'm not joking). I think he will leave you alone, as he only wanted me, but I can't be sure. There's two quid in this letter; hopefully, that can pay for some food. When that runs out, I've made it so that you can go into Gringotts and get more. Nylah and Bran, I've put your names down as authorised to withdraw from my account. The hard part will be getting to the bank, as I'm not sure if you can. The entrance is hidden by magic, but I saw humans inside the alley so I think you should be able to find it if you already know where it is. There is a pub, called the Leaky Cauldron, on Charing Cross Road in London. It should be disguised as an old abandoned building a few blocks up from the tube station. When you go inside, try not to look too amazed, or the wizards might sense something is off. Ask the bartender to open the passage into Diagon Alley for you. Be careful, I think he is trained to search for imposters. The bank is the wonky marble building at the end of the street. Don't go into Knockturn Alley, or someone will stab you. Muggles, that's what they call ordinary people, are under apartheid level shit, so keep an eye on anything shifty. _

_In the bank, go to the teller at the end of the row and ask for a withdrawal of however many pounds you need from Harry Potter's account and show proof of identity (they might take a blood sample, they are weird). WARNING! The Bankers are actually Goblins – like from the Lord of the Rings. The ones who gave you this will be in disguise. They are not evil, but they are scary looking. Don't freak out, as this insults them. If you want to buy anything from the alley itself, you will need Wizard money, called Galleons, which you can also get from my account. Don't worry about the money, my parents were seriously loaded, and I'm apparently super famous here. Still working out the details._

_I'll try and escape as soon as I can, but I've got a job to do first. I don't know if I'll be able to send word again. If not, goodbye, and thank you all for what you've done for me. Tell Emily that I'm sorry._

_Harry._

The handwriting was atrocious, and there were ink stains all over the paper, but it matched up with what little he'd been able to write before, and it sounded like Harry. Now they were all wondering what on earth they were going to do.

Emily took a deep breath and stood up on shaky legs.

"I'm going to get him back," she said, summoning all the authority she could muster.

"How?" Nylah said, voice cracking as tears welled in her eyes. "We can't fight these people, Emily. They can do magic! Magic! All that science I devoted my life to, and none of it means a damn thing. It's all a fucking lie!" Nylah threw her empty Styrofoam cup into the fire, and it immediately began to melt.

"Dad shot some of them! They get hit with bullets just like we do!" Emily replied.

"If they don't shield themselves. They can do what Harry can. And what's to stop them from just mind controlling us?" Dad whispered; voice shaky. They all glanced to Sammy. She was sitting in an armchair, curled into a ball. She wasn't any worse for wear physically from her mind-rape, but she barely spoke now and hadn't left the Bunker since it happened.

"I don't know. But maybe there is a way! Harry says there is a whole alley of shops hidden in London. One we should be able to get into. The least we can do is learn more about our enemy. Maybe we can find a weakness!"

"She's got a point," Adam said. He too, had been very silent. He didn't like having his brain fried, and who could blame him.

"I'll go with you Em," James said, pulling himself up from where he'd been hiding in the darkness behind her father's couch. He had been caught in the culling too, and had no memory of Harry or the wizards.

"I owe this guy, even if I can't remember him. If we can help him, we've got to try something."

"I'll go," Sammy whispered, locking eyes with Emily. She nodded her head once before turning back to watch the flames.

Nylah sighed. "Well, I'm not letting you lot go without supervision. But we only go once the money runs out. Tomorrow we wear the best clothes we've got, and we go grocery shopping."

_‘Don't worry Harry,'_ Emily thought. _‘I'm coming for you.'_


	9. Chapter 9

# Chapter 9:

_"Khriss,_

_"I have used Imagination's Perpendicularity – known colloquially as the Vault of Dreams – to reach Earth. The situation is far worse than we feared. Equality has been splintered, and it was definitely done by Odium judging by the residue he left behind. Imagination has sealed himself away for a reason I cannot discern. Equality's Investiture on Earth, Enchantment, has become unstable as a result. An axial tilt between magic of good and evil intent has caused mass conflict across the planet, and inequality amongst its users runs rampant. Imagination seems to have turned a blind eye, and people here are draining power from him directly seemingly without his notice. If Odium escapes his prison on Braise, he will find this world very easy to subjugate._

_I will send word soon, there is something else I want to investigate before I return."_

_Author Unknown._

* * *

The sun flashed green. Harry's jaw fell open. _And here I thought I'd seen everything after the Goblins._

"Well that's not creepy at all," He said hesitantly.

"The axial tilt. That's bad timing," Alicia said, shaking her head.

"Oh, hell yeah. I'm not putting myself in for the tournament now," Angelina said, staring at the sun as it sank towards the horizon.

"Um, for the newbie?"

"The axial tilt," Ginny began, her arm still entwined with his, "it's kind of like the worlds morality alignment. It shifts randomly between good and evil, causing light or dark magic to be stronger than the other. Has for hundreds of years."

"The last tilt was…"

"about a year and a half ago now," the twins said, their expressions grim. All their humour had vanished. Harry shivered. He realised he was imagining things, but the idea that the Earth itself had good days and bad days was actually comforting. No wonder he felt cold.

"Wait… does it affect normal people too? Like, non-wizards?" He asked. Katie nodded.

"Dad says it does," Ginny explained, rubbing her hands together, "but there isn't much research. Wizards don't really like associating with muggles."

"Huh," Harry said, doing the math in his head, "I suppose that would explain some things I've had trouble believing actually happened."

Harry, now feeling very disturbed, took a step in the direction of the castle. His foot crunched on the ground. He looked down, and his jaw went slack. There was frost on the blades of grass at his feet. He snapped his gaze back up, on edge. His breath misted in the air.

"Guys. Move back towards the castle. Now." He took command, pulling his arm from Ginny's. He pulled the static into his body, using it as fuel to repel the unnatural cold. The sun had begun to dip towards the horizon, but it held none of the warmth it had a second ago.

No one listened to him, they were all staring at the gates. Two figures were floating in the air above the wrought iron. They were hooded and cloaked, and both had an aura of decay and… and darkness… about them that made him want to vomit. They floated to the ground and began to move towards them.

"Go now!" He yelled, finally snapping everyone out of their dazes. They bolted up the hill towards the castle, Harry running backwards at the rear, eyes fixed on the two creatures. They were definitely not human. In fact, they almost felt…

He stopped dead, eyes going wide. They felt the same way that Mak did, only opposite. Instead of the life and creativity that Mak embodied, these creatures seemed to be manifest of death and decay. Dark-faeries? Were they even a thing?

_DEMENTORS! CREATURES OF DEATH! LEAVE THIS PLACE, YOU CANNOT FIGHT THEM, HARRY. YOU ARE NOT READY YET!!!_

Harry stumbled and almost fell flat on his face. What the fuck was that! Something had spoken directly into his head. No, _someone_. It had definitely been a woman's voice.

_RUN, HARRY! _

Harry, for the first time in living memory, did precisely as he was told. He scrambled to his feet, the Fusion Force making it easier blinking. He charged up the hill, catching up to the others as they approached the Covered Bridge. In the distance, he could see something appearing in the sky, but he didn't care. Four more of the creatures had appeared, and they were all advancing on him.

"Harry!" Ginny yelled, grabbing his shoulder.

"Go!" He yelled, pouring as much force of command into his voice as he could. Ginny's eyes were wide with fear, her skin pale. Fred and George grabbed her from behind, pulling her across the bridge.

Harry pulled on his power, the static surging within, and lifted his hands to the sky. Lightning arced from the air, four bolts striking each figure. They passed straight through, leaving scorch marks on the earth. He reversed gravity around the bridge. Rocks shot out of the ground and into the sky, but the Dementors continued without so much as rustling their cloaks. Harry, panicking now, pointed a single finger towards the closest one, and a bolt of super-hot black energy launched from his fingertip. Pure Decay Force. The creature phased through the beam as if it weren't even there. The ground at Harry's feet iced over.

He tried pushing them with Division. Nothing. He tried beams of light. Still nothing.

_Of course, nothing is working! If they're like Mak, they aren't fully here. They're non-corporeal! Like… Like wraiths. That's it!_

Harry, backing up onto the bridge, pushed his hands forward and called upon the last of his six forces. The least useful. And perhaps the most dangerous. The Life Force. White light pooled in his hands, and he thrust it forward. A wall of ethereal white light manifested around the bridge, and the Dementors were blasted back.

Harry ran. He decreased his friction using the Strength Force, and skidded along the wood, worn from centuries of foot traffic. He covered the entire length of the bridge in a matter of seconds. He dispersed his power as he reached the courtyard. The others were standing in the middle, heavy breathing, while Professor McGonagall was trying to get an explanation out of them. A few other students, stragglers back from Hogsmeade he guessed, were staring at him.

Harry took a deep breath, relieved, and started to walk towards them. Mak appeared in a burst of light, in full human-sized form – and judging by the reactions of the crowd, very visible – directly in front of him.

"Duck!" Harry dropped to the floor as Mak launched over his head. A Dementor flew up from the abyss, heading straight towards him. Mak cleaved the creature in half with her giant sword, and the Dementors corpse hit the ground, one half on either side of him. It turned to smoke, before vanishing into nothingness. Mak landed on one knee, sword extended. The bitter cold lifted, and Harry could finally breathe normally. Mak's form flickered, and the next second she was her regular size.

"What was that thing?" She said, fluttering over to him. He could see Ginny frantically whispering to Ember while Angelina filled McGonagall in on what had happened.

"Dementor. I heard a voice…"

"I know. I heard it too. It's how I knew you were in trouble."

"Do you know what it was?" Mak shook her head.

"But I do know this. That _thing_. It had a darkness, a feeling of destruction and ruin associated with it. Something I think I've felt before. It makes me want to vomit just saying it." She shivered, sat down on his shoulder, and said no more. He shook himself and made his way towards Professor McGonagall.

"And Harry created this wall of white and…"

"Thank you, Miss Johnson, I believe I know the rest." She turned towards Harry and sighed.

"Mr Potter. For rescuing several students from potential harm, I award you 100 points. Are you okay?"

"Right as rain," he lied.

McGonagall breathed a sigh of relief. "Well. If you would then, I suggest you all make your way to the Great Hall before the delegations arrive. I will be having conversations with Albus. Dementors! Attacking students!" She continued muttering to herself as she walked away, and Harry realised with a jolt that she'd forgotten to place the shackle back on his wrist. In fact, he could see the silver metal hanging out of the satchel draped across her shoulder. He made a split-second decision. He reached out with the Fusion Force and tried to pull it towards him… Damn it! Bloody Aluminium.

"Ginny!" he hissed, "the bracelet!" Ginny gasped and spun towards McGonagall, seeing what Harry had. She pulled her wand and cast a spell.

"Accio," she whispered. The shackle shot out of McGonagall's bag as she rounded a corner into the castle and flew into Ginny's hand. They looked at each other and grinned.

* * *

"What do you suppose the voice meant?" Harry asked as they sat down at the Gryffindor table. Harry's fan club had caught up with them as they headed for the hall. Tonight, it seemed that Ginny had to share Harry with Romilda Vane (a rather pretty first year) and Ginny's year mate Demelza – both of whom had glued themselves as tightly to his side as he could. Susan Bones was having quite the sulk at the Hufflepuff table after Harry had politely reminded her that she wasn't allowed to sit with the Gryffindors. It was from Romilda that they'd learned of Beauxbatons' flying carriage and Durmstrang's ship. Harry had started singing something along the lines of "drink up me hearties yo ho," or something equally as bizarre at the time. As usual, the girls continued talking to Harry even though he wasn't listening to them.

"I… I'm not sure. You say it sounded like a person?"

"The voice was a woman's. I'm sure of it. But yeah. She said that I wasn't ready to fight them yet. Is there something she wanted me to do? Why warn me? Or did I just imagine it?" He sighed. "Am I reading too much into this?"

"Maybe. But Dad always says to trust your gut, so if yours says this is important, don't ignore it." Harry nodded, seemingly pleased with that answer. Cormac McLaggen sidled in next to Ginny, though he didn't even acknowledge her. It still amazed her how readily people were willing to forget about their isolation of her for an entire year just because Harry was her friend now.

"So, Potter. I was watching the French students arrive before, and I swore I saw a Veela with them. I thought I might try and, you know, woo, her. I hear they're magnificent in the sheets. But, I figured, you're the top dog around here, and if anyone has dibs on a Veela it's you, so are you interested? Or am I all good?" He said it with his usual smug, superior accent, but you could see the nervousness in the way his foot tapped away on the stone floor. Ginny assumed that Harry would ignore McLaggen like most people did. She was proven, very wrong. As soon as he said the word Veela, Harry's head shot up. His face rolled through several emotions. Curiosity, intrigue and disgust, before finally settling back into his mask of charisma.

"A Veela hey Cormac?" Harry rubbed his chin, then he smirked.

"I'll tell you what. Wait until after the champion selection. If I haven't made a move by then, she's all yours." Ginny's face went bright red. Merlin. Was he actually interested? Had she been reading all the signs wrong? But, they went on a date. Did it mean nothing? Was he just going to throw her aside when a Veela came along? Cormac said something she didn't hear, before getting up and leaving. Harry gagged into his drink. Was that Rum?

"God that guys disgusting," Harry said, "I feel like I need to wash my mouth out after speaking to him." He leaned his elbows on the table.

"A Veela… that will be very interesting," he said. Ginny shivered almost as bad as she had when the Dementors had attacked them.

"Why?" she asked, her voice cracking. Harry looked her in the eye, and she thought he could lay her completely bare with that crystal gaze.

"Because I'll wager they can see Mak and Ember. Being of the faerie blood like the Goblins and all. I'm curious if they'll come over here. I certainly would." Ginny breathed a tiny sigh of relief.

The Durmstrang students began advancing into the hall, all of them wearing thick cloaks. Ginny gave a start when she realised that two extra tables had actually been added to the Hall. How had she not noticed that before? Regardless, the Durmstrang students, many of them staring at the enchanted ceiling with impressed looks on their faces, made their way to one of the empty tables and took their seats.

"I cannot believe Victor Krum is here," Katie said dreamily, "He'll be champion for sure."

"Whose Vector Crumbs?" Harry asked.

"Victor Krum. He's only, like, the greatest seeker to ever live," Ron said, somehow appearing two seats down from Harry. He looked as wistful as Katie did. Ginny frowned. Actually, this was the closest Ron had been to Ginny of his own free will in a very long time. Though he still wouldn't look at her. Progress was progress she supposed.

"I take it that's a sports thing?" Harry asked. Judging by the cringe on his face as several people around him gasped, he'd realised rather quickly the trap he'd just walked into.

"Harry! Haven't we explained Quidditch to you yet!?" Katie exclaimed, horrified.

"There's no backing out of this now is there?" Harry tried. Ginny shrugged at him. Then, she winked slyly.

"Just don't believe anything Ron says about the Cannons."

"Hey! The Cannons are going to make a come back soon. Just you watch!" Harry was no longer listening. He was staring at the hall entrance. Ginny suddenly felt an inextricable sensation to do the same thing. It was almost as though a magnet were pulling her. She swivelled, Ember jumping up into the air – seemingly feeling the same impulse. The Beauxbatons students wore shades of blue, and their robes appeared to be made of silk – not a very good choice given Scottish weather. They too had their own table. But Ginny's gaze had been drawn to the woman at the front of the procession. Tall, with silver hair and a bearing that just screamed ‘I'm better than you', she had to be the Veela. She walked past them without so much as a glance, taking a seat at the empty table. Ginny furrowed her brows, turning – with no small degree of effort, back to Harry. He was having a whispered discussion with Mak. The faerie nodded and flew off. Harry then pulled his Charms textbook out of his pocket (where the hell had he gotten that?) and began to make notes in the margins with his muggle clicky pen.

"Follow her," Ginny hissed to Ember. She too vanished.

The Halloween Feast was as full of sweets and odd delicacies as ever. Ginny, ignoring the tugging on her brain trying to force her to stare at the Veela woman, distracted herself with Pumpkin Soup. Harry refused to eat – "I spent fourteen years of my life eating stolen or scavenged food. I'm not going to start gorging on candy apples now." She couldn't particularly blame that reasoning, so she let him be for just this once. Halfway through dinner, the thumping in Ginny's head reached a crescendo.

"Heads up!" Ember called, drifting on the wind beside her. Ginny looked up just in time to see the Veela girl – who must have been seventeen at least – appear behind Harry. Mak had returned to his shoulder and was whispering to him in a hushed tone. All conversation stopped instantly.

Harry didn't look up, continuing to scribble away at his book.

"Je me demandais quand vous arriveriez."

Ginny's eyes went almost as wide as the woman's did. Harry spoke _French?_ If he grew up on the street, where did he have time to learn French?

"Tu parles français ?"

The woman sounded shocked. Judging by the faces of those around her, they were just as confused as Ginny was.

"Évidemment."

Harry still hadn't looked up from his book. Mak, however, had landed on the table and was now staring at the Veela. She didn't seem to be able to see her. Everyone was staring at them now.

"Je m'appelle Fleur."

"Enchante."

Harry evidently made a mistake of some sort at this point, because ‘Fleur' frowned slightly. Or perhaps it was her version of a scowl, Ginny couldn't be sure. Demelza and Romilda did not look like they wanted to move from their prized seats.

"Pourquoi as-tu pensé que j'allais venir à toi ?" Ginny didn't know what she said, but the tone was very much a demand. Finally, Harry looked the woman in the eyes.

"You've been flaring your Veela allure since you walked in the door, and I was the only person in the room who didn't care. Now you're curious who I am." This time he spoke in English, and everyone understood the implication. Ginny realised, with a great deal of shock, that she'd actually been affected too. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. At least she had more willpower than Ron, who had a little bit of spittle on the side of his mouth. His friends Seamus and Dean were little better.

"I am Harry Potter. I had thought that we would be friends. Evidently not. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really do need to get back to my work." He turned back to his book and turned the page. Fleur, a look of outrage mixed with embarrassment on her face, stormed away. No one had the gall to laugh at her.

Ginny, though she realised it was petty, felt far better about herself now that the Veela girl had proven herself to be rude and big-headed. The fact that Harry could throw off a full blasted Veela Allure also made her feel quite good about herself. Maybe she had a chance after all.

“Why couldn’t she see the faeries?” she whispered.

Harry pursed his lips, frowning.

“I don’t know. It might be about belief.” He didn’t say anymore.

Eventually, as dessert appeared, conversation resumed. Though the conversation around her was still about Harry (with the addition of the fact that he had the power to throw off the Veela allure at will to his magnificence), he was no longer actually in the conversation. Ginny wasn't sure what she should say to him, so remained silent. At least, until someone new pierced her – if reduced in size – bubble of isolation. A girl wearing Beauxbatons robes, the same age as Ginny, with the same silver hair as Fleur, sat down next to her and grabbed a plate of souffle.

"Je suis désolé pour ma sœur, Monsieur Harry," she said with a musical voice. She pronounced Harry's name without the ‘h', which Ginny found slightly infuriating. Ember floated in front of the girl's face, staring at her inquisitively. This girl looked directly at Ember.

"Bonjour, sœur de sang. Je suis Gabrielle…" She paused in her speech, blushing slightly. Then she took a deep breath, bowing her head.

_"E sur Gabriellprir deso Vella," _she said the words very hesitantly, as if worried she'd spoken them wrong. Mak beamed, and Ember looked shocked. Then, seemingly without thinking, she bowed her own head and said,

_"Pal se Pathere fav tu, Garbriellprir. E sur Ember, masellas de tastheria." _Ginny got the feeling they'd stopped talking in French and had switched to the faerie language. A language she hadn't known Ember spoke. Apparently, Ember hadn't known that either, because she gasped in surprise as the words came out. Then she stood up proudly, zoomed over to Mak, and started dancing up and down.

"I remembered, I remembered! Just like you said!"

"Please for the love of Merlin can we speak English?" I don't understand a word anyone has said for the past ten minutes," Ginny begged. Harry laughed, and the girl had the decency to blush. This, of course, forced Ginny to study the girls face.

For starters, she was far too beautiful for her age. Those violet eyes seemed to sparkle – not unlike Harry's did sometimes (maybe it had to do with faerie blood? Did _her_ eyes sparkle?). Her skin was pale, with a soft silver glow to it like moonlight, and her lips were rosy red. Ginny's ‘chance of snogging Harry-o-metre' plummeted into the Black Lake.

"My name's Gabrielle. Fleur is my sister. I'm sorry about her. It's no excuse for being rude, but she has been under a lot of pressure lately." Oh, Merlin's saggy left testicle. This girl was a Veela too. _Fabulous._ Would she ever catch a break?

"Oh, don't worry. I wasn't exactly polite either. I'm Harry, this is Ginny, and these two lovely ladies are Mak and Ember," Harry said, putting away his book and smiling at the silver-haired bombshell. Ginny resisted the urge to pout.

"Nice to meet you all," Gabrielle said, a look of relief crossing her features. Ginny suddenly wanted to hex herself. Here she was, being jealous and self-deprecating, and this girl whom she didn't even know, had just plucked up the courage to come and apologise to a celebrity for her sister's behaviour, then speak to a mythological creature in a language that wasn't her own. She felt ashamed of herself.

"Nice to meet you, Gabrielle," Ginny said, trying to redeem herself.

Gabrielle turned that dazzling smile on her now, and Ginny couldn't help smiling back. Damn but that grin was infectious.

"So, um, forgive me if I'm like totally out of line, but how do you have faeries?!" Gabrielle asked, gesturing to the two glowing figures.

"Shhhh!" Harry and Ginny snapped. Gabrielle blushed.

"Sorry," she muttered.

Dumbledore interrupted anything they might have said next by standing up. Gabrielle bade them a quick farewell, and Harry told her she was welcome to speak to him any time she liked, then she slipped back across the aisle to her own table.

Ginny only vaguely listened to what Dumbledore had to say about the Goblet of Fire (which she supposed was impressive) and how the champions would be selected. Ember, however, was watching with rapt attention. Mak and Harry had occupied themselves with a boat of caramel. Harry was dipping his finger into it, then holding out the gold-covered appendage to Mak, who greedily gathered the dripping caramel into her own hands, before slurping at it.

Finally, the Headmaster finished his speech and dispersed the crowd to their dormitories. Ginny followed Harry up the stairs, eager to reach her cupboard under the stairs for a well-deserved sleep. It had been a long day.

* * *

# Authors Notes:

**On the use of language:**

The Faerie language was invented by us and is a derivative of Latin. We will not be providing you with a cypher. Sorry. That being said, here’s some translations.

_"E sur Gabriellprir deso Vella." _– “I am Gabrielle of the Veela.”

_‘-prir’ _is an honorific used for underage women.

_‘-pren’ _is a gender neutral honorific used for strangers.

_"Pal se Pathere fav tu, Garbriellprir. __E sur Ember, masellas de tastheria." _– “May the father favour you, Gabrielle. I am Ember, daughter of Imagination.”

_“teneb-ira.” _A deregulatory slur that implies that a person has evil intent. Direct translation: “dark-one.”

**French Translations:**

"Je me demandais quand vous arriveriez." – “I was wondering when you would show up/arrive.”

"Tu parles français ?" – “You speak French?”

"Évidemment." – “Evidently/Obviously.”

"Je m'appelle Fleur." – “My name is Fleur.”

"Enchante." – “Enchanted." A word used to reply to an introduced person, typically followed by a self-introduction.

"Pourquoi as-tu pensé que j'allais venir à toi ?" – “Why did you think I would come to you?”

"Je suis désolé pour ma sœur, Monsieur Harry." – “I’m sorry for my sister, Monsieur Harry.”

"Bonjour, sœur de sang. Je suis Gabrielle…" – “Hello/Greetings, sister of blood. I am Gabrielle…”


	10. Chapter 10

# Chapter 10:

_“I have discerned a method of passing into the Vault of Dreams. I will proceed under cover of darkness. Wish me luck.”_

_From the Diary of Merlinus Caledonensis; Earth, 537 Common Era. This entry was the last to appear in the copy he sent to Hogwarts. After this event, Merlin was never seen again. As far as the Wizarding World knows, these were the final words of the greatest Wizard of all time._

* * *

Harry felt an all-encompassing drive of freedom as he and Mak snuck through the halls of Hogwarts towards the Stone Gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's Office. The fucking chain was finally gone from his arm (if accidentally), and he was going to pull the biggest "fuck you" to his captor humanly possible. He was going to steal from right out under the old man's nose.

Mak on his shoulder, he strode along the corridor adjacent to the gargoyle. He stopped at the corner, closed his eyes and took a single deep breath. He raised his hand and snapped his fingers. There was always a chance the Headmaster had forgotten to close the portal to his room after all. A highly unlikely chance, but that made no difference to Harry. Grinning, he turned the corner. The gargoyle was gone, a spiral staircase in its place.

Harry slid across the stone floor before leaping up onto the staircase. He took each step three at a time and reached the door to Evil Gandalf's office in seconds. He made no move to open the door, though. Instead, he repeated his actions from down below.

Even with his powers, he wasn't taking any chances. He held himself steady with one hand on the wall and leaned over the ordinary-looking desk mat to push the door open slightly with a gloved hand. Mak flew into the room, returning a few seconds later.

"No one is inside except the chicken, but that doesn't mean the paintings aren't watching. They look like they're sleeping, but who knows with those things." He pursed his lips, then straightened himself. He rubbed his hands together, building the static beneath his fingers, before spinning around in a circle. The static rushed over him like a wet blanket. His body felt as though he was submerged in water. The brilliance of the Charge Force – he could bend light around him to hide from observation. It was a taxing power, and one he was reticent to use, but this called for it.

He stepped over the mat and slipped into the room without disturbing the door. Without missing a beat, he pointed his finger at the flying crimson chicken and shot a concentrated lightning bolt from his finger.

A _‘crack!' _echoed through the room, the bird squawked and exploded into a funnel of ash as it was blown to smithereens. Harry smirked in self-satisfaction. Mak pocked her tongue out at it. A few of the portraits stirred, but, apparently, the Phoenix's periodic detonations were frequent enough not to warrant a response. Harry had done his research on the fucking things.

The mist on the top floor was gone. It had evidently been obscuring several more shelves of books, and what looked like a gigantic telescope. Another door off the side most likely went to Dumbledore's sleeping quarters.

Mak flew over to a large chest on the top shelf of the upper level, pointing at it. Faerie number one. It looked like the trunks used by students. Frowning, Harry carefully made his way up the short stairway and stood beneath the chest. No way he was going to get that down without his powers. Taking a deep breath, he reached out his hands and called the Fusion Force to him. He slowly lifted the trunk free of the shelf, straining as his invisible shell began to crack under the effort of using two powers at once. He lowered the chest to the ground as quickly as he could, before breathing a sigh of relief and diverting his energies back to the shell. It replenished, and he sagged in relief and exhaustion. He moved over to the trunk and opened the lid. There wasn't much inside. A jewellery box, a gold and red metal ring with a coat of arms he didn't recognise suspended in a ball of glass, and a silvery black blanket made of what he thought might be silk. Mak pointed to the blanket. He grabbed it and tucked it into his inner robe pocket. Harry thought about taking the other two things but then thought better of it. If he left the valuables, Dumbledore might be more confused. A thief would take everything. He closed the trunk and lifted it back onto the shelf – again with a serious effort that left his shoulders sagging afterwards. Mak flew to his ear and whispered to him.

"There's only one other thing in here. The hat on the shelf over there. The third artefact must still be with Dumbledore."

He nodded and made his way to the second shelf. The talking hat that was supposed to put people into one of the four houses was sleeping on its stand. Harry pulled on it, and it flew straight into his hand. No struggle with something so light, fortunately.

The hat jolted awake, and Harry cursed under his breath.

"Hey, now. What's this? Wait a moment! I'm being Hat-napped!" Harry wove a sound barrier around him as well, but he wasn't fast enough. Several of the paintings ‘woke up', calling out, asking if other frames had heard something. Harry bolted for his final target.

"You there! How dare you… is that Design! You're an Imagineer! Impossible! The Pact of Truth…" Harry shoved the whining hat into a pocket, muffling the voice. Instead, he stepped up to Dumbledore's desk. Several books and loose papers were strewn across it. Funding reports… arithmatic analysis of colour distinction… a book about someone called Merlinus whose last name he couldn't pronounce… a blank book with a dusty leather cover. Nothing that screamed ‘_Important! Someone might go to great effort to steal this!'_ He needed to leave some sort of smoke trail for the Headmaster to follow. If an important document was missing…

_Ruin and Preservation = Scadrial._

He stopped short. One of the documents seemed to be a map. An uncompleted map, with at least three large empty spaces and no landmasses or names he recognised. But one thing jumped out at him. In the dead centre of the map of bizarrely shaped continents was what he supposed could be Europe – if you looked at it at an odd angle – titled: "_Expanse of Delusion – The Valley – Earth." _Beneath it, with two lines pointing towards a point in the Southeast of England was another line of text: _Imagination = The Vault of Dreams, Earth._

Imagination. Mak said the god of the Faeries was called Imagination. He looked towards the door, heart thumping in his chest. Sweat was beading on his skin. His shell of invisibility was starting to crack. He couldn't hold this! Damn it!

He grabbed the map and the stack of notes beneath it, tucked them into his robes with the still grumbling hat, and bolted through the door. He fell into an abyss – the stairs had retracted into the floor. Crap. He lost his illusion and slammed on the Fusion Force to halt his fall. His speed bled away until he was drifting down to the ground like a feather. His feet hit the floor, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Mak fluttered down beside him.

"Nice going hero," she said dryly. Harry scowled at her. He slid around the side of the gargoyle, which didn't seem to notice his presence, and adopted a confident and hurried gait. In his experience, if people thought you had reason to be doing something, they usually left you alone. He mounted the Grand Staircase and made his way towards the Gryffindor Common Room, humming quietly to himself at a job well done.

* * *

Daphne Greengrass, the Ice Queen of Slytherin, had a dark, dirty secret. She really liked spa baths.

It was an odd thing to enjoy admittedly, but she did. She loved the feeling of jets pushing into her back, massaging out aches and pains. She loved the weightlessness of floating amongst the bubbles. And she loved the solitude and serenity that accompanied it.

Unfortunately, spas were not something that were readily available to her at Hogwarts, so her favourite form of stress relief was denied her. That said, the Prefects Bathroom was a very suitable substitution, and Daphne's mother had known the password. She could only go when she was sure no one would catch her – as only the Prefects were supposed to even know about it, let alone use it – but she was a Slytherin for a reason: subterfuge was in her blood.

Daphne was quite proud of how on the edge of Slytherin politics she'd managed to stay so far during her years at Hogwarts. Her family wasn't a particularly powerful one, which kept her relatively hidden from the eyes of prospective betrothal hunters. Her father was quite proud of managing to stay neutral during the Wizarding War, and as a result, she was generally beneath Malfoy's notice. Those two factors combined created a sliver of space she could sit in, avoiding most people's attention, where she could just enjoy her life. She studied hard both her school subjects and her personal work, sent by owl from her tutor (she wanted to be a lawyer like her mother and father, and no subject at Hogwarts would teach that to her), and otherwise kept her head down. But that protection relied on no one having anything to hold over her. If she was caught on one of her night-time excursions… she didn't want to think what Malfoy might attempt to blackmail her into.

Hence her logic for taking a trip to the bath while everyone was too busy watching to see which muscle-bound idiots would be shot out of the Goblet of Fire. However, it seemed that she wasn't the only one who'd thought to sneak about while the rest of the school was distracted. As she rounded the Fifth-Floor corridor, towelling off her hair as she walked, she stopped short. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Fucking-Lived, crouched on the landing ahead, his back to her. He was wearing ordinary school robes, and his gaze was fixed on something above him.

She sucked in a breath to give him a piece of her mind. Harry spun around – _"how the hell had he heard that?'_ – and placed a finger to his lips before she could speak. He beckoned to her quickly. Her curiosity overpowering her urge to yell at him, she crouched down and walked softly to him, her own robes brushing the floor. When she reached the landing, Harry pulled her down beside him and pointed up. A level above, opposite the painting of a fat lady holding a wine glass, stood a man in filthy rags with matted hair and an emaciated looking body. He was pleading with the portrait to let him inside, but the Fat Lady was refusing him.

"Do you know who that is?" Harry asked her very softly, not taking his eyes from the figure. Daphne tried to get a closer look. There was a tattoo on his neck… Her eyes went wide in fright, her sense of panic skyrocketing straight for the moon.

"It's Sirius Black! I recognise him from the wanted posters!" She hissed, her voice cracking. Her natural Slytherin sense of self-preservation kicked in, and she tried to spin and run away, but Harry grabbed her arm in a vice. His face held a look of thoughtfulness.

"Don't go anywhere. I'm going to need you. What's your name?"

"Excuse me?!" She said as quietly and indignantly as she could manage while yanking her arm out of his grip.

"Your name," he demanded.

"Daphne, and you can't just tell me what to…"

"Listen. I'm going to go talk to him, or if need be, subdue him. But I want to question him, and I can't do that if Dumbledore gets to him first. Here." He pulled a bundle from within his robes and shoved it into her arms, ignoring her tirade. It was a roll of papers and a hat. A gag in the form of a silvery cloak had been tied around the brim. Who tied a gag on a hat? Oh, Merlin's beard!

"You stole the Sorting Hat!" She whispered in astonishment.

"He and I need to have a conversation. A very important one. Now, I need you to creep back into the corridor and stay there. When I call, come back out. Can you do that?" What the bloody hell did he think he was doing?! That was Sirius Black! Mass Murderer! They should be running for their lives! He could turn around and murder them in the blink of an eye!

Then she stopped and really thought about it. This was Harry Potter. She didn't believe half the stories about him, but she couldn't deny the pictures she'd seen with her own eyes in the Prophet, and the fact that he seemed so in command of the situation – utterly unfazed by the murderer he planned to confront.

Whether it was an effect of his presence, or something else, she wasn't sure, but she nodded her head.

"Good." Then he rose to full height and walked up the stairs, not even drawing his wand. Daphne scuttled back into the corridor but couldn't help peeking around the wall. He didn't trust Dumbledore, and he'd stolen not only the Sorting Hat but whatever this cloak was and several documents from the Headmaster's office as well, apparently all without being caught. Now he was going unarmed to speak to a prison escapee who was probably insane. Maybe, just maybe, those stories had some grain of truth to them after all.

"Mr Black, my name if Harry Potter. I'd like a word if you have the time," Harry called, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. Black, suddenly freezing in his arguing with the portrait, turned slowly around to stare at Harry with wide eyes. He didn't appear to have a wand either.

"James?" Black croaked, a look of utter glee crossing his face.

"I'm told he's my father, and that you're my Godfather. I'd love to speak with you," Harry said again. He took a step up towards the man, hands raised in the air. Daphne wondered how he could be so calm.

"No…Not James. He killed you… Wormtail, he took everything," Black muttered, the joyous expression becoming one of pain. She cringed. If that was what prolonged exposure to Dementors did to you, she almost felt sorry for him. Better to just throw him through the Veil.

"Wormtail? Who is Wormtail, Sirius?"

Black turned back to the portrait, muttering under his breath. Daphne could just hear the words.

"Inside. Need a password. Have to find him." Daphne frowned. They certainly sounded like the words of a madman, but not exactly the type of language she'd expected an insane murderer to say.

"Wormtail is inside the common room?" Harry asked, taking another step up. He lowered his hands.

"Yes," Black continued, "Find him. Show them it was him. Help Harry." He looked up at the Fat Lady, who looked partly petrified partly concerned. A sudden change seemed to come over him. He stood up straight and clasped his hands behind his back.

"Goldenlocks!" he proclaimed proudly. The Fat Lady shook her head softly.

"I'm sorry, Mr Black, that's not it either." Black slumped, his posture returning to the same state he'd been in before. Then he began to shake.

"Please open. PLEASE!" He shouted. His hand moved toward his pocket, and Daphne stifled a scream. The Fat Lady did not. She screamed so loudly her wine glass shattered, before bolting into the next frame. Harry was onto the man the next second. He flew, literally flew – whole body in the air – up the remaining stairs and slammed Black's head into the wall. He crumpled to the ground in a heap.

Harry lowered himself to the ground, but the damage was already done. All the paintings were yelling, and the Fat Lady was continuing her flight, hollering all the way.

"Daphne!" Harry called, voice rising an octave in what she could only describe as panic. Without thinking, she rushed to him. Harry picked Black up and slung him over the shoulder with seemingly no effort whatsoever. A kitchen knife fell from his robes, hitting the floor.

"Daphne," Harry said quickly, fright in his eyes, though his face maintained the outward calm. She was sure she didn't look as good. An alarm began to ring in the distance. "We have to hide him. And by ‘we' I mean you."

"Me!"

"Yes. Dumbledore can't know I've got my shackle off, and he can't know I broke into his office. I need an alibi. I'll say I saw Black as he was attacking the Fat Lady and fought him until he ran off, but you've got to get him and those out of here." He looked her straight in the eyes, and she saw something in his deep emerald orbs. Was it desperation or determination? She couldn't be sure. Regardless, it was powerful, and, almost unwittingly, she found herself nodding.

"Do you have a place they won't think to search?"

"Yes. This way, quickly." She ran with him back down the stairs to the fifth floor. He didn't even break a sweat despite the fact he was carrying at minimum a sixty-kilo man, even if he was malnourished. She brought him to the Bathroom and spoke the password, leading them inside. Harry grinned, before locating a cupboard and shoving Black inside. He wriggled his fingers and the cabinet melted into the wall, a false one growing down from the roof to hide it. He stashed the hat, cloak and pages inside, then sealed it, leaving a tiny crack to allow air through.

"That'll do for now. Quickly, you need to return to your common room. Meet me back here tomorrow morning, got it?" Daphne nodded, and Harry pulled a silver manacle from his pocket. He sighed dramatically, before snapping it back on his wrist. Then he bolted out the door, leaving Daphne behind.


	11. Chapter 11

# Chapter 11:

_“Today, as I explored Grindelwald’s fortress, it appears as though I stumbled upon something I was not meant to discover. Gellert… what did you learn in the years since we parted? What did you do to this poor woman I have found trapped in the darkest depths of Nurmengard?” _

_From Albus Dumbledore’s Notes; 20th Century, Earth._

* * *

Ginny sat with the students of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang as they all stared at the flickering blue flames of the Goblet of Fire. Ginny herself wasn't watching the Cup. She could have cared less about who it spat out. No. Her job was to watch Dumbledore for any sign of panic, worry or fright. So far, he hadn't seemed to notice anything suspicious, but that could change at any moment if Harry triggered a trap.

Without Harry, her sphere of isolation had returned in full. There was a clear ring of empty seats around her, but Ginny didn't mind. It was merely a reminder that no one had forgiven her for what happened. They just tolerated her presence to be close to Harry. Harry, who still didn't know why she was ostracised and refused to ask or listen to anyone who tried to tell him why it would be a good idea to stay as far away from Ginny as possible.

Evidently, not everyone got the memo, because about fifteen minutes into her silent vigil (punctuated by nervous nibbling on a pastry) Gabrielle sat down beside her and helped herself to one of her sweets.

"So, where's Harry? I thought for sure he'd be here," she asked, in English thankfully.

Ginny swallowed.

"He didn't enter," she said. Ember looked up from her perch atop Ginny's goblet at the sound of her voice. The faerie was even more invested in the hunt than Ginny was. With good reason.

"Really? Wow. Fleur can relax then. Why didn't he enter?" The silver-haired girl seemed genuinely curious.

"He's been in the Wizarding World for all of two months. Give him a break." Ginny snatched her pastry back from Gabrielle's hand and stuffed it into her mouth.

"Ginny!" Ember warned. Her gaze snapped to Dumbledore. His eyes had widened, his dinner forgotten, and his hands going for his pocket. Ginny was about to order Ember to warn Harry when the Goblet of Fire suddenly burst to life. All discussion silenced in an instant, and Ginny grinned. Dumbledore was trapped. The Headmaster realised it too, hesitantly rising to his feet. He looked quite pale. He withdrew his wand and waved it. The candles all went out, the dishes vanished, and the hall was plunged into darkness. Hesitantly, the Goblet of Fire spewing blue flame into the air in intricate patterns, Dumbledore edged his way down the centre aisle towards the stone goblet. As he neared, the fire turned pink, and a piece of paper shot into the air. Dumbledore caught the paper.

"The Durmstrang Champion is Victor Krum," he announced, and the Durmstrang Delegation cheered, slamming their cups on the wooden table.

"Oh, I wonder who could have guessed that," Gabrielle muttered dryly. Another paper shot into the air and Gabrielle crossed her fingers beneath the table.

"The Beauxbatons Champion is Fleur Delacour!"

"Yes!" Gabrielle exclaimed, pumping her fist in the air just a tad earlier than the rest of the Beauxbatons students. She blushed as red as Ginny's hair and sat back down with her head in her hands.

Fortunately for her, the French students distracted the hall with cheering their own champion as Fleur, ever the pinnacle of grace and etiquette, rose elegantly from the table – ignoring Gabrielle's outburst – and followed Krum to the front of the room.

A final piece of paper shot into the air, and the flames in the goblet winked out. Dumbledore caught it and read it. He furrowed his brows in confusion, then without looking up, spoke far more softly than he had before.

"The Hogwarts champion is Ginny Weasley."

* * *

** _All Gabrielle's thoughts are in French, though we've obviously written them in English so you can understand them._ **

** _– Miracle._ **

Gabrielle leaned forward, elbows on the table, jaw open in shock. Then she turned towards Ginny. The redhead had gone bone white, and her hands had begun to tremble. What? Why was she shocked? She had to have put her name in… No. She couldn't have, the age line wouldn't have let her. But then, how?

Ember jumped up and down on the table.

"Oh, fabulous! Ginny! This is your chance! Just like we talked about, remember!?" Ginny's gaze turned murderous, fixing on the faerie. Ember immediately cringed.

_"You put my name in the Goblet of Fire?!" _She hissed. Gabrielle quelled the gasp of shock that threatened to escape her. _Merde sainte! _She didn't enter herself. No wonder she was freaking out.

Gabrielle turned her gaze to the crowd. All the Hogwarts students were staring at Ginny with what could only be described as horror. The Beauxbatons and Durmstrang delegations were staring not in fear, but utter confusion. Ginny was quite obviously not seventeen after all. But why the fear? Why was Ginny on her own? Why would no one sit next to her? Why was everyone scared of her?

"Miss Weasley?" Dumbledore said, seemingly seeing exactly what Gabrielle herself had in Ginny's expression. The girl's whole body had started shaking now, her breath coming in short bursts. Gabrielle grabbed Ginny's hand and, apologising in her head, lowered the mental barriers holding the Veela Allure in check. Her allure wasn't strong. In fact, it was positively pathetic compared to Fleur's or her mothers, but she could at least use it to calm one person. Ginny's breath started to slow, but the shaking only got worse.

"BLACK! SIRIUS BLACK! IN THE CASTLE!!!!" A ghost flew through the wall of the Great Hall, his transparent form barely visible in the darkness. But his voice carried.

Ginny was instantly forgotten as screaming broke out in the hall. Dumbledore disapparated instantly, and the greasy-haired teacher, the scared teacher, and the half-goblin teacher all raced out the main door the conventional way.

"Silence!!!!!" Professor pointy hat screamed. The people quieted slightly, though the talk didn't actually stop.

"Everyone will please stop panicking. Everyone will remain here until Professor Dumbledore has investigated the issue. I assure you, he has it well in hand." She was then pulled into a conversation with Madame Maxine and Professor Karkaroff.

Gabrielle – who had no idea who Sirius Black was – turned her attention back to Ginny. Ember had curled herself up in a ball on the table, crying.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she whispered repeatedly.

"Ginny. Calm down. I'm sure we can get you out of this," Gabrielle said, lacing her words with allure. Merlin, what was she doing? It wasn't her job to look after a panicking accidental Triwizard champion! She didn't even know this girl! But no one else seemed to care about her, and that meant that right now, it was her job. Blast, where was Harry?

Ginny began to rock back and forth in her chair. Not working. Time for drastic measures.

"Sorry," she muttered. Then she placed both hands on the side of Ginny's head and blasted with as much allure as she could.

"Snap out of it!"

But instead of jolting her back to sense, Gabrielle felt something latch onto her. Ginny's eyes sparkled, and Gabrielle was dragged, screaming, into the depths.

Her eyes snapped open to darkness. She sat up and screamed. Her legs were buried in mud and filth. She was in a dark cavern, lined with statues of snakes. Only, the colours of the place seemed to be washed out like a water painting.

Immediately, she tried to pull herself free from the mud, heart racing. Her legs came away relatively easily, but that seemed to be the least of her problems. There was no ground that wasn't covered in mud. At least not that she could see. She pressed her foot down, searching for the earth beneath, and her foot touched a liquid so cold it burned. She jerked her foot back up and began to back towards the wall.

_‘Smack.'_

Her foot hit something solid. Gabrielle looked behind her and gasped. A beam of light, refracting with all colours of the rainbow was shooting up through the cavern roof not ten metres away. But… it didn't give off any light. It provided no illumination at all.

Hesitantly, Gabrielle edged out with her foot, and once again hit something solid. She couldn't see it very well, but it looked like there was solid ground after all. It was coated in a layer of black slime, but it was better than the mud, so she stepped up onto it, and moved towards the beam. She had to keep close to the wall, as the corridor through the middle of the cavern was full of mud. But neither would she touch the wall. Because it was barely substantial. The whole thing was made of the same clay as the floor, large globs of it oozing down the side.

She reached the edge of the ground and stared at the beam. It seemed to be originating from a pool of _something _with a similar light bending quality to it in the centre of the cavern. The beam itself? It looked… sick. It was the word that came to mind as she stared. It pulsed at uneven intervals, and blasts of refracting energy frequently broke free and dissipated in the air. It moved sluggishly, and at times seemed to clot like blood flowing through an artery. The mud around the pool – which, she knew _should _be glowing, but didn't – was pitch black and bubbling. There was no way she was going to step out into it.

Where the hell am I?

_"Ginny, Ginny, Ginny. Poor little Ginny. Back here again are we?" _It was a male voice. Full of malice and hate. A tall boy with black hair and pale skin – though she couldn't be sure that wasn't just the washed-out colours – was standing on the ledge of solid ground on the opposite side of the room to Gabrielle. He didn't appear to have noticed her. Instead, his attention was on the mud. Or rather, someone buried in it. Ginny.

Gabrielle didn't dare cry out. She didn't want to alert whoever the man was that she was here.

_"I can't seem to be able to go anywhere else," _Ginny said. Her entire body was buried in the sludge. Only her face was visible. Barely.

In a flash of flame, a life-sized version of Ember, hair intricately braided, flames dancing in the ashen locks, appeared beside the man. She, unlike everything else, appeared in full colour. Her black evening gown was embroidered with red accents, her skin was a milky white, and her eyes glowed with golden light.

"You have no right to be in this place, Tom Riddle. Leave before I make you," Ember snapped, fire smouldering the ground at her feet.

_"But I can't leave. I'm trapped at this infernal pool! Unable to even leave this cavern. BECAUSE OF YOU!!!!" _She got the impression that he was trying to yell the words, but they came out no louder or quieter than the rest of his sentence. Why was Ember in colour if the boy was not? For Gabrielle could see now that this Tom Riddle was not a man. No, he was a boy of sixteen or seventeen, wearing Hogwarts Robes.

"You received a far lighter punishment than you deserved, disciple of Odium." Ember's voice didn't seem to have the same restriction as Riddle's. She could speak with tone and inflection.

_"Abandoned,"_ Riddle muttered, scowling.

"Yet a disciple nonetheless," Ember said. Then she stepped out into the mud. Immediately, it pushed away from her, revealing crystal clear water beneath. But as soon as she stepped away, the mud surged back to where it had been banished. The mud pulled away from Ginny as Ember reached her, kneeling down.

"Come my sweet one," Ember whispered.

_"This time at least her pain wasn't mine faerie! You caused this!" _Ember ignored him, placing her hand on Ginny's head, and Gabrielle was shocked back into the Great Hall. She released her hands, and Ginny blinked rapidly.

Gabrielle found herself doing the same. What had happened? She… she could have sworn she'd been somewhere else. Could almost feel something slimy on her feet through her shoes. She shook her head, dismissing the odd feeling. Ginny's skin went green, and she grabbed the nearest goblet, vomiting into it.

"You okay?" Gabrielle asked, rubbing circles into the girl's shoulders.

"No," Ginny said dejectedly.

"I just… I just wanted to make you happy," Ember said through her tears. Ginny picked up the tiny faerie and held her close to the breast.

"It's alright. We'll… we'll deal with it."

Ginny, Ember and Gabrielle remained in their positions for several hours, entirely forgotten by the castle populous.

* * *

Harry was sitting on the floor outside the Gryffindor Common Room playing poker with Peeves and his faerie when Albus finally found him.

"You're bluffing," Makani said to the poltergeist. Peeves, who was staring fixedly at his cards, said nothing. Harry sighed.

"Fold. Shit hand." He threw his cards back onto the pile and leaned his head on the door.

"Ah. Headmaster. Took you long enough."

"What happened here, Harry?" Albus demanded. Poker? With Peeves? It seemed almost unthinkable. Could the faerie bond allow Harry some control over the ever-elusive poltergeist? It was from the Expanse of Delusions, just like the faerie, so it wasn't out of the question, though Albus had never seen documentation of such a power. And he had a lot of notes on Imagineers.

"Guy in dirty robes was trying to get inside the common room. Had matted hair, muttered to himself. My new friend Peeves here tells me it was Sirius Black." Albus turned to Peeves.

"Blast it, Milady! It's no fair playing games with you!" Peeves whined, before throwing his cards to the pile. Makani pulled the illusionary chips into a heap beside her.

"Peeves. Was it Black?"

Peeves finally looked at him, trademark smirk etched across his face.

"Oh yessiree, Headmaster sir. I remembers him, I do." Makani dealt another hand of transparent cards. Harry immediately grinned.

"I'd fold now guys. No way you beat me this time."

"What were you doing away from the Hall, Harry?" Albus asked. His office alarm had rung in the middle of the Goblet feast. He hadn't been able to leave to catch the intruder. It had to have been Black. But how did he get inside? The portraits all reported seeing no one. He hadn't had time to take inventory yet, but everything still seemed to be in place. The thing that stumped him was why Black would want to break into his office. He should be coming after Pettigrew – who should be in his cage here in this tower. If what Harry said was the truth, he _had _come here. What if it wasn't Black who had broken into his office at all. But how? He could see that the Binder remained on Harry's wrist.

"It's the anniversary of my parent's death today. For the first time, I know who they are, why they died, and when. I couldn't bring myself to go and sit in the hall, feasting." He tried to say it with a straight face, as if he didn't really care, but the slight hint of melancholy that entered his voice gave him away. No. Harry hadn't broken into his office. It had to have been Black.

Harry shook himself, and Remus, Severus and Filius came running up the stairs, out of breath.

"Potter! What are you doing here?!" Severus snapped. Albus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He really would have to do something about Severus' irrational hatred of the boy.

"I was coming back to the Common Room, Professor Fuckwit," Harry drawled, making a passing attempt at Severus' accent. Severus scowled, and Harry laughed, Makani and Peeves joining him.

"Oh, you make it so easy, Snape. Truly you do, and I'm ever so thankful for it."

"Harry," Albus pleaded. The boy turned his attention back to Albus. Merlin but how like Lily he was. His mannerisms, his eyes, that witty intelligence. Albus had no doubts the boy would have been sent to Slytherin if he'd allowed the Sorting Hat to go on his head. He couldn't allow that, and the Hat would not have listened to Albus's reasoning. It made exceptions with Muggleborns, and only Muggleborns. Albus thanked the stars every day that Lily had been one. If she had gone to Slytherin… He didn't want to think of what might have happened.

Harry sighed but continued his story.

"I confronted Black. He didn't seem to be right in the head. PTSD for sure. Anxiety, as well, maybe. He was talking to himself, so he might be dissociative as well. He also seemed rather jumpy, though that's probably from the whole broke out of prison and there an army of zombie ghost monsters after me thing." He placed air quotations around his final sentence, though Albus couldn't understand why. Perhaps a muggle idiom he'd picked up?

"I tried to calm him down, and it seemed to be working. I think he thought I might have been my father, but the Fat Lady freaked out and ran off screaming. I tried to stop him from escaping, but well…" He trailed off, lifting his arm with the Binder, and glaring daggers at Albus. Makani hissed what he assumed was a profanity under her breath in the faerie tongue, because Peeves fell over on the floor laughing, and Filius turned pale. Albus decided he didn't want to know. The last one had been very disturbing when he'd checked it in his archive.

"So, you let a serial killer escape. Not much of a hero are you, Potter!" Severus said, and this time Albus did role his eyes.

"Blame your boss Snapey. If I didn't have this fucking leash on me, I'd kill you right now. Save the whole world a great deal of trouble." _That _was what had Albus very concerned. Harry's upbringing amongst the destitute muggles had instilled in him a ruthlessness that, if left unchecked, would undoubtedly see him turn into another Tom. He'd tried to set Mr Weasley up as his friend, to ensure Harry turned towards the light, but the boy had been unable to put aside his fears of his sister. As a result, Harry had attached himself to the Weasley girl, the one Tom had picked as a potential host, and now had a massive following in the school. Despite his attempts, he'd been unable to discourage the worship, and it was clear that the fame was going to Harry's head, just as he'd feared it would. Now, with Miss Weasley chosen, somehow, as Triwizard champion, her dependence on Harry would increase further, and he'd be able to mould her as he wished. And after all the effort he'd gone to in ensuring the girl was hated and despised. He'd honestly hoped she'd kill herself and solve the problem for him the previous year. No. This was not good. He needed a new plan. Bringing Harry to the school had turned out to be a terrible idea.

Consumed as he was in his thoughts, he didn't notice the glint of victory in Harry's eye.


	12. Chapter 12

# Chapter 12:

_"I have spent hours in her company now, and all she speaks are the same words over and over. They are difficult to decipher, but I have come to the conclusion that this woman, somehow, came to Earth from another world, using the Expanse of Delusions as some sort of bridge. But how? Beings from other worlds? It seems impossible, yet there is no other explanation I can find. Why do I get the feeling there is something in her babble that I am missing? Why her obsession with the number 16? What are these Shards?"_

_From Albus Dumbledore's Notes; 20th Century, Earth._

* * *

Gabrielle led Ginny up the Grand Staircase with two tall redheads who'd identified themselves as her twin brothers Fred and George. As much as she wanted to be heading to Beauxbatons to celebrate Fleur, she knew that right now she was of more use helping the distraught girl to bed. While Ginny had returned to awareness, when she tried to walk, her legs started shaking horribly. So now, Gabrielle, Fred and George were helping her to the Gryffindor Common Room after Dumbledore had lifted the lockdown. Sirius Black had evidently vanished. They reached the open portrait hole and walked inside. The Common Room, which was packed with people whispering about the break-in and the Triwizard, quieted. Fred and George cleared a way through the people while Gabrielle, with Ginny's arm around her shoulders, helped her to the stairs. Ember had disappeared.

"How'd you do it? Dark magic?" a boy shouted, and several people mumbled the same thing.

"Leave her alone. She didn't put her name in," Fred snarled.

"She doesn't know what happened, and the next person who suggests she did gets on _our _bad side," George snapped. They reached the stairs.

"They're charmed. We can't go up. Third door on the left," Fred whispered in Gabrielle's ear. She nodded and walked up the stairs with Ginny.

"She's lying," came another voice. This time no one agreed with him. Evidently, they were too scared of the Twins. They must have a reputation for something, though Gabrielle didn't know what.

"Ron. For once in your life, use the brain our parents gave you and shut up," George said, voice low.

"No. We all know what she's capable of George. We know what she did, what she can do. Now she's used dark magic to get herself into the Triwizard Tournament underage. She's either going to lose spectacularly, or she'll do the same thing to those other champions that she did to Hermione and Justin." Gabrielle heard the sound of a fist meeting flesh, followed by a crash. Gabrielle ignored it, leading Ginny up the stairs. She reached the third door and pushed it open. Three beds had been crammed together between the door and the window. No candles burned.

Gabrielle led Ginny towards the beds, but the girl pulled her in the opposite direction: towards the empty side of the room. Gabrielle furrowed her brows but allowed Ginny to guide her. They reached the wall where a tapestry hung, and Ginny pulled it aside to reveal a small tunnel. Gabrielle's heart lurched into her throat, she drew her wand and pointed it down the chamber.

"Lumos." The spell illuminated a small tunnel leading to a bed bathed in moon-light.

"My god, Ginny. You actually sleep in there?" Ginny shrugged and crawled into the tunnel despite Gabrielle's attempts to stop her.

* * *

Harry burst into the Common Room, fuming. Ember had found and told him and Mak what she had done. Now, he was about ready to kill someone. Mak sat on one shoulder, Ember on the other.

The Common Room had dissolved into a brawl. Ron Weasley was lying on the ground, moaning. Seamus's hair was blue, and he had ginormous elephant ears weighing him down. Dean Thomas was hiding behind a couch. Somehow, his hindquarters and legs had been replaced with those of a monkey, and his face was covered in boils. Fred and George Weasley were standing guard at the bottom of the girl's staircase. Several chairs had been demolished, the paintings were all empty, and there was a large hole in the wall.

"What is going on here!" He snapped, his tiredness causing him to yell louder than he intended. Everyone winced, looking towards him.

"Well?"

"It was Fred and George, Harry," Romilda said, appearing at Harry's side with her friend's Natalie and Jimmy – both of whom were regular members of his fan escort.

"Ron, he, well, he…" Romilda trailed off, and Katie appeared from in the crowd.

"Ron insulted Ginny because of how she entered the Triwizard Tournament." Harry raised an eyebrow.

"And how exactly was that?"

Richie Coote, one of the few first years who didn't follow him around, piped up.

"She used dark magic." Almost everyone in the room shivered. A spell shot from the end of George's wand, colliding with the poor boy. His head immediately inflated. He screamed and started floating towards the roof.

"And, who perhaps came up with this profoundly stupid idea?" he asked. Everyone glanced wearily at Fred and George, but the pair of them remained stationary.

"Well, it's obvious. She did it before, she can do it again."

Demelza was crouched behind a chair out of the twins firing line, and it appeared her devotion to Harry was more powerful than her fear of prank spells.

_Again? _God, what happened to you, Ginny? He refused to ask anyone what happened, though he'd narrowed the event down to her first year. He also refused to speak with anyone who brought the subject up. He would not judge Ginny for something that she obviously deeply regretted and despised herself for. He wouldn't do it. She would tell him herself eventually.

But right now, he had to fix this. The question was, how was he going to do that? The answer was quite simple. When placed in a difficult situation, the easiest way to get out of it was to lie through your teeth.

"Well, it appears you're all idiots then, because _I _put Ginny's name into the Goblet of Fire." A wave of gasps echoed through the room. "I intend to test her metal in order to see if she's got what it takes to join me on my missions. The tournament is the perfect opportunity. Perhaps, if one of you had impressed me as much as Ginny has, it would be you being celebrated tonight. Instead, I come here to find you all brawling like a bunch of dumbasses!"

For once he actually thanked Dumbledore for coming up with that stupid story.

"But… but Harry. You have to know what she did…" a second year he didn't know began, stuttering through his sentence.

"Of course, I KNOW!" He snapped, and the boy fell onto his ass in shock.

"Do not presume to think that if you know something, it means that I do not. Now, Demelza, go to the Hospital Wing and inform Madame Pomfrey that we have injured here. Katie, go find Professor McGonagall and provide her with a full list of all those involved so that she can decide how many house points are to be taken from Gryffindor. All involved mind you." Both girls rapidly nodded their heads and vanished out the portrait hole behind him.

"The rest of you, I expect more from Gryffindor House. The Courageous and the Bold? More like bullies and simpletons." Satisfied that his message had gotten through even those with the thickest skulls, he advanced to the stairway the twins were guarding, snapping his fingers softly inside his pocket. They nodded to him respectfully, before moving to allow him past. Then he walked up the staircase – the one bewitched not to let any man walk up them – without breaking his stride. After all, it wasn't a certainty that the stairs would change, just a very strong probability. He reached Ginny's dorm and found the door open.

"Gin?" he asked softly. He thought he could hear crying inside.

"In here!" Came a distant voice. Gabrielle? He pushed the door open the whole way and found himself in a circular dormitory. Only, the three beds had been crammed together between the door and the window, leaving the rest of the space empty. Where was Ginny's bed? Ember jumped off Harry's shoulder and glided to a tapestry on the far side of the room. Harry, balling his fists, followed, pulling the fabric aside. Within he found a tunnel carved into the stone. Gabrielle was sitting in candlelight at the far end, a weeping Ginny cradled in her lap.

Only intense mental discipline prevented him from seeing red. Mak and Ember flew through the chamber, Harry crawling after. There wasn't room enough in Ginny's make-shift bedroom for three, so he remained crouched in the passage, head extended into the space. Her bed had been crammed – literally crammed – inside. Her trunk, shrunken, sat on the tiny windowsill. A small door that he would have to crouch to use was positioned in the wall opposite the window. He knew instantly what it was. A cupboard under the stairs. His hands began to tremble. Mak had started to glow with a blinding intensity.

"Gin? Don't you worry. We're going to get you through this. You'll come out winning the whole tournament if I have anything to say about it." Ginny just nodded her head. Her face was covered in tear stains, her eyes puffy and red.

"Okay. Come on. You're staying in my room tonight." Ginny didn't seem to have the energy to disagree with him, and between Gabrielle and himself, they managed to get her out. Gabrielle grabbed Ginny's trunk on the way. Together, they led the distraught girl out of the room and down the stairs to the Common Room. McGonagall, Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey were all in the room, looking over the children. He made eye contact with McGonagall, and she nodded her head softly. Dumbledore too watched him as he turned up the boy's stairs with Ginny and Gabrielle. They reached the top and Harry pulled open the door. The Head Boys rooms consisted of a main study with a fireplace, two couches, a bookshelf and a desk; a private bathroom, and a bedroom with a double bed and a wardrobe for his clothes. They placed Ginny down on the bed and tucked her under the covers. She fell asleep instantly.

"Harry… Thank you," Ember said softly. Then she drifted down to the bed and lay on Ginny's pillow. Harry and Gabrielle went back into the sitting room and closed the door.

"Thank you for helping her when nobody else would," Harry told Gabrielle softly as he made his way to one of the cupboards, pulling out an extra pillow and sheets. "You can sleep here tonight if you want. I doubt you'll be allowed back to the Beauxbatons carriage. McGonagall saw you, so you should be fine." He pulled the cushions off the couch and quickly made up a bed. He'd pilfered the extra sheets from a room on his first night. Old habits die hard, after all. Gabrielle stared at him, blinking.

"You really care about her, don't you?" she asked softly.

"I care about everyone who gets screwed by society," Harry told her, putting the pillow in place.

Gabrielle whispered a thanks, before taking the offered place on the couch. Then she frowned.

"Where will you sleep?"

"You let me worry about that." He blew out the candle, plunging the room into darkness. Then, he picked a position opposite the door, wand at the ready. Mak landed on his lap and curled up into the crook of his leg. There was no way he was going to sleep tonight.

* * *

To one who hadn't lived it, the circumstances that found the famous Harry Potter blasting holes in the wall of the Prefects Bathroom to release a mass-murderer would be completely unfathomable. Fortunately for Daphne Greengrass, she _had_ lived through it. At least, most of it. She still had no idea why he'd stolen the Sorting Hat from Dumbledore's Office when he could have taken any number of other super expensive or important artefacts from inside.

Harry blasted the wall with another Severing Charm – wincing each time he cast for some reason – and the bricks he'd created in a second the previous night finally broke free, collapsing to the floor to reveal the unconscious form of Sirius Black, a silvery blanket, a roll of papers, and a talking hat.

"Ah! The Hatnappers! I knew you'd come back! Harry Potter is it? And Daphne Greengrass. Well, an odd combination to be sure. What is the meaning of this!" The hat seemed incredibly miffed.

Harry, rolling his eyes, slapped the hat onto his head.

"Now. You listen here, Mr Hat. You and I are going to have a conversation, and you're going to shut up long enough for me to get a word in. Is that understood?" The hat pursed the folds that formed its mouth.

"An Imagineer. Ahh… Yes, I see it now. Hello Makani, tell me, how is the Valley? I haven't seen it in such a long time." Daphne raised an eyebrow. Then, incredibly, a figure appeared in the air – four tiny transparent wings protruding from its back, fluttering rapidly. It had blue skin, blonde hair, pointed ears, and a silver dress that dissipated to mist at her feet. A faerie. Merlin's Baggy Bedazzled Boxers.

"Hi Hogs," the faerie said dejectedly, "there's nothing about the Valley you're going to want to hear." The hat frowned – if a hat could be said to frown.

"The Pact of Truth? It has caused the devastation I feared when I learned of its implementation?"

Makani nodded, and both fell silent.

"Um, what devastation?" Daphne asked hesitantly.

"The faeries draw power from the dreams and desires of humankind," Harry said softly, "The Pact of Truth banished them back to the Valley, what you call the Expanse of Delusions, and cut them off from their life source. The surviving faeries are all either dead, dying, or fleeing before they do." Daphne felt something crunch around her very soul. Humanity had condemned an entire race to death simply because they'd been considered a pest. It made her want to be sick. It was even worse than You-Know-Who's persecution of Muggleborns and Half-Bloods in her mind. At least they could fight back, the faeries couldn't.

"Hmm…" the hat said suddenly, pulling Daphne out of her thoughts, "It is an intriguing plan you have here, Mr Potter. A positively Slytherin one in actual fact. I think I know now why Albus wouldn't let me sort you. Incredibly, I think you would have been a stall between Slytherin and Hufflepuff. A rare trick that!" Daphne couldn't help it. Her jaw fell open. Harry Potter: a Hufflepuff! Or, even more incredibly, a _Slytherin_! He hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor at all! Dumbledore had just put him there!

"It's all true, isn't it?" She exclaimed, "what you've been saying since you got here. About being homeless before Dumbledore kidnapped you." Harry raised the silver shackle on his arm.

"Duh. This place makes me want to vomit. So much foreign power. I've got a constant headache from it," he said, sighing dramatically.

"You think it's bad for him," Makani said, rolling her eyes. "I have to watch him force Enchantment through his veins. It's like drinking month-old milk!" The faerie grabbed her stomach and mimed puking.

"So, um, what's this plan?" She asked, eagerly.

Harry raised an eyebrow as he removed the hat from his head.

"You sure you want in? You could get expelled." Daphne just shrugged.

"Helping Harry Potter pull a heist over the eyes of the Headmaster of Hogwarts vs being a good little girl and doing my studies? Which would you pick?" Harry and Makani both laughed.

"Well, when you put it like that," he said with a smirk. Then he clapped once, rubbing his hands together.

"Fabulous. If that's the case. I don't suppose you know an invisibility spell, do you?" Daphne regretfully shook her head.

"There's something called Disillusionment, but it's not real invisibility, and it's not taught until the seventh year."

"Bugger," he muttered, rubbing his shackle.

"Perhaps I could provide an idea?" Hogs the hat asked, still dangling from his brim in Harry's hand.

"What?"

"The cloak of invisibility would provide a means of transporting Mr Black secretly, I imagine." Harry, Daphne and Makani all jerked towards the hat.

"The what?" They said in unison. The hat flicked its point towards the silver blanket lying on the floor. Daphne moved to pick it up. It was incredibly soft. She lifted it up, letting it fall open from the scrunched bundle, and gasped. It wasn't a blanket at all, but a cloak. She wrapped it around herself, and her entire body vanished from view.

"Woah," Harry said, reaching and touching Daphne's chest. She instantly blushed and jerked away. Harry frowned, obviously confused by her head violently backpacking. Then his face flushed red.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"It's fine. Not intangible, just invisible," Daphne said, pulling off the cloak and putting him at ease. Makani was chuckling to herself.

"Bloody hell, what did he do to you?" Harry whispered to himself, taking the cloak and holding it reverently.

"Do what?"

"There's a trapped faerie bound to it, that's what's powering the spell," Makani said. Daphne shivered.

"Dumbledore did it?"

"No," the hat said, "The Cloak of Invisibility, one of the three Deathly Hallows, was created several hundred years ago. Though I've spent most of my life in the Headmaster's office, I know that much." Daphne's eyes went wide.

"The Deathly Hallows?! But those are a myth!"

Harry cursed.

"What are the other two supposed to be?"

"The Elder Wand, which was supposedly unbeatable, and the Resurrection Stone, which could recall spirits from the grave," Daphne explained.

"The Wand must be the third faerie, the one he keeps on his person," Makani said.

"Agreed. That's going to make getting it very difficult," Harry moaned.

"So that's the plan?" Daphne asked, "Steal the artefacts being powered by these captured faeries, then release them? Do you know how to do that?"

Harry didn't answer. Instead, he took the cloak and tied it like a sack, then shoved Black inside. He vanished. Harry pulled the now invisible bag over his shoulder and made for the door. Daphne, biting down her annoyance, followed him.

* * *

Ginny awoke to the sound of a kettle singing. She sat up slowly, wiping her eyes. She wasn't in her cupboard under the stairs. That was odd. In fact, she was lying on a double bed – and a rather comfortable one at that. Warm sunlight filtered through a window looking out over the Black Lake. The door was slightly ajar. Harry's room.

The events of the previous night slammed into her like a ton of bricks. _Ginny Weasley: Triwizard Champion._ What did she ever do to deserve this?

Hesitantly, dragging the sheets with her, she made her way to the door.

In the sitting room beyond, Daphne Greengrass – she thought she must still be asleep, because why in Merlin's name would Daphne Greengrass be in the Gryffindor Head Boys rooms – was pouring herself a cup of tea while Harry and Gabrielle Delacour held cups of steaming coffee in their hands. Both Harry and Daphne were dressed in their Hogwarts robes, but Gabrielle was wearing one of Harry's shirts with her Beauxbatons skirt. The Sorting Hat was sitting on the top of Harry's desk, beside a stack of papers and a silvery blanket. On the far side of the room was a dirty, unkempt man with scraggly hair and beard, tied to a chair. Mak and Ember were hovering beside him

"So, not a dream then?" she asked. They all looked to her. Well, all except the sleeping man.

"Afraid not," Harry said "Coffee?"

"Tea thanks," she said hoarsely, moving towards the kettle. Daphne pulled out another cup and placed it on the table for her.

While Ginny proceeded to make herself a cup, Harry filled her in on his achievements the previous night and regaled her with the story of Daphne's arrival and subsequent inclusion into his team of miscreants. She also said hi to the Sorting Hat.

Finally, once her tea was made and she'd taken a seat on the couch, Harry sighed and placed his coffee cup aside.

"Now. The elephant in the room," he said blatantly.

"I know. Harry, I swear I didn't use dark magic…"

"What?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow, "I don't care about that! I don't even know what Dark Magic is, though I imagine it probably has something to do with malicious smoke, zombies or the Nazgul. Don't worry about the Triwizard. It's small fry. Give me two weeks, and I'll have you trained up enough to win all three tasks in a breeze." His tone turned deadly serious, and Ginny gulped.

"No, Gin. What I want to know is why you didn't tell me you were sleeping in that mouse hole." He stared at her, a look of betrayal in his eyes, and she wilted under his gaze. What must he think of her? Hiding in a cupboard under the stairs. Sulking in the corner. He probably wanted nothing to do with her now. A pair of arms wrapped around her, and Ginny realised that tears had started to well up in her eyes again. Harry pulled her close to his chest and ran a hand through her hair.

"Hey, it's okay. We'll deal with it. I just don't want you to be suffering behind my back is all. I won't have you being forced into some cave because other people are too immature to deal with their problems." His words didn't help. They just made her feel worse.

"They didn't force me. I… I did it. I hid in there. I hollowed out the passage to the old bricked up cupboard under the stairs. I couldn't stand their looks. I just couldn't…" She pulled back from Harry's embrace.

"You shouldn't have anything to do with me. I… everyone is right, I'm unstable. I'm evil. I _killed _people, Harry. I'm dangerous." Harry didn't flinch or move back like she expected, now that he knew the truth. Instead, he just laughed.

"So have I. At least five. Maybe six, I never found out for sure." Everyone, except Mak that is, stared at him in shock.

Harry just shrugged, sitting down on the couch beside Ginny.

"The first was an accident. I was seven, and only just starting to come into my powers. I used a gravity blast to knock a man into a wall when he tried to rape a girl sleeping in the same alley as me. He died instantly. I had to move suburb after that." He sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair.

"The second, third and fourth weren't intentional, but they weren't accidents either. I was ten years old, staking out a drug bust the police were doing in Hammersmith. We'd lost two people to the dirty drugs the people were peddling, so we turned them in. I wasn't supposed to be there, but I knew the people who died. They were my friends. So, I sat on a rooftop, watching, waiting. The sting went bad, and the cops were forced to pull out under heavy fire. One of them, a woman, had taken two shots in the leg and wasn't going to make it to the cars in time. I jumped in, slammed down into the ground so hard I left a crater in the cement, and called down lightning. Three guys died, the five others I hit all lived. I healed the woman, dragged her to the cops while their reinforcements secured the base, and vanished."

"The fifth person I killed; I did on purpose. It was a sixty-year-old rich guy from I don't know where. What I do know is that he was the reason Sammy was thrown out of her family. He raped her and got her pregnant. So, she had an abortion in secret. She was fifteen. Her ultra-religious parents threw her out when they found out, and she came to the Bunker. I drowned the man in the Thames. No powers that time."

"I'm not sure about the sixth person. He was still alive when the cops arrested us both, but I'm sure I severed his spine and broke his pelvic bone, so internal bleeding should have done the job. I never found out if he died or not. That was six months ago."

He laughed at himself.

"The moral, as I'm sure you're wondering, is this. Don't think that you're the only one whose done shit stuff. On purpose or by accident. What matters is how to carry it, and how you move on afterwards."

Everyone stared at him in silence. Gabrielle had turned green. Daphne's jaw was hanging open. Ginny? She just sat in a mixed sense of shock, awe, and… fear. Yes, it was definitely fear. He didn't sound the least bit remorseful about what he did. She supposed it shouldn't surprise her. She knew Harry's life had been hard. But killing? She had a hard time associating him with that.

"At least the people you killed deserved it," she whispered, "I killed innocents."

Harry remained quiet for a few seconds, before turning to her, his eyes sparkling.

"You don't believe that." Ginny opened her mouth to reply, but Mak came to a rest on his knee, arms folded, staring at her pointedly. Of course. The faerie could tell when she was lying. Apparently, she could even tell when she lied to herself.

"It may as well have been me. If I hadn't been so stupid, they'd all still be alive."

"Hold the Owl, Weasley," Daphne said, waving her hand in the air, "are you telling me that all the shit that happened two years ago wasn't you?"

Ginny laughed the hollowest laugh she'd ever heard.

"Oh, it was definitely me. No doubt about that."

"So, what then? You were under the Imperious?"

"If only," she said. Then she looked at Harry's face. He nodded softly and took her hand, squeezing it. Ember landed on Ginny's shoulder and gave a thumbs up.

"Possessed would be the more _accurate _term." Gabrielle winced.

"Possessed? By a Dark Artefact?" She nodded.

"Then you should have been exonerated by the Unknowable Consequences Act of 1813," Daphne said pointedly. Ginny frowned.

"The what?"

"The Unknowable Consequences Act of 1813. Specifically designed so people who could prove they were under the effects of an artefact with malicious intent when committing a crime could avoid incarceration." She'd drawn the rooms collective gaze now. Daphne just shrugged.

"My dad's a lawyer. You learn things." Ginny's momentary flash of hope vanished, and she slumped back in her chair.

"No good. Voldemort's Diary was destroyed. I threw it into the whirlpool in the Chamber of Secrets."

_"You destroyed my life!"_

_"I gave you a taste of true power!"_

She shook her head, dispelling the memory.

Gabrielle choked on her coffee, falling off her chair and landing on a heap on the ground. The man tied to the chair also jolted awake. He tried to break his bonds, then, when that failed, he sat rigidly straight. Then he _transformed._ Into a giant black dog. The ropes fell away, and the dog bolted towards the door.

"FUCK!" Harry yelled, jumping off the bed and leaping towards the dog. The front door swung open, and two synchronised calls of "Stupefy!" rang through the room. Red bolts hit both Harry and the dog, and they collapsed to the floor. Fred and George stood in the doorway, heavy breathing as if they'd just run from somewhere. In George's hand was a piece of parchment with dozens of folds.

"Ginny! Are you alright! Where's Black?!" Fred exclaimed, waving his wand towards every corner of the room.

"What's with the dog?" George asked, seemingly more controlled. Ginny, trying to quell the adrenaline that just shot threw her veins, rushed to the dog.

"Ow," Harry muttered, pulling himself from the floor sluggishly. Mak was flying in front of Fred's face, brandishing her misty sword. Ember was rolling on the couch, laughing.

"The dog is Black!" Daphne exclaimed, reaching the mangy dog before Ginny could and immediately casting a spell on it. The dog's form flickered, and it transformed back into Black.

"Animagus," she muttered as Ginny reached her side. They pulled the unconscious man up and threw him back into the chair as Fred apologised to Harry, pulling him up. Gabrielle, who had spilt her coffee all over herself, finally finished spraying herself with water. She huffed indignantly and began drying herself with her wand.

"Incarcarus," Daphne said, retying the ropes around Black.

"Those aren't going to hold him," Ginny noted.

"Well, I don't know any anti-Animagus charms. Do you?" she asked dryly. Ginny conceded that she did not.

"Um, care to explain why there are three girls in your room Harry? Including why one of them is a Slytherin and the other is a Veela from Beauxbatons?" George asked, innocently. Harry punched Fred in the face.

"Crap!" he exclaimed, releasing Harry and falling to the floor. Then he advanced on Black and slapped him across the face. The murderer slowly came too, then instantly brightened up.

"Prongs! You're alive! It was all a dream! I knew it!" he exclaimed.

Fred and George both made whimpering sounds.

"Don't know any Prongs. Sorry. My name is Harry Potter. Apparently, I'm kind of a big deal around these parts. But, then again, so are you. Always nice to meet a fellow celebrity." Gabrielle – now dry – came up next to Ginny and Daphne.

"By, ah, Voldemort, I assume you mean… you know, _Voldemort,_ Voldemort don't you?" Ginny nodded, eyeing the girl

"You can leave if you want," she said, feeling that flame of irrational jealousy flare up again. After having been doused in coffee, soaked, then wand dried all in the space of five minutes, Gabrielle still looked like she'd just won a beauty pageant.

"What? No way! I was just going to say wow." Gabrielle explained, blushing.

"Wow?"

"Yeah. He was like, super-powerful right? Must take one hell of an eleven-year-old to fight him off." Ginny didn't quite know what to say to that. So, to hide her blush, she turned back to Harry and Black.

"Harry?" Black slumped in his binds, "Not a dream then. I… I hoped so much…"

"Hoped for what?" Harry asked softly, keeping a grip on Black's arm.

"If you were still a baby, none of it would have happened." His voice was hoarse as if he hadn't used it in a very long time. Tears were leaking out of his eyes. He was definitely not mentally stable.

"What happened?" Harry asked, rubbing Black's wrist like he was consoling a child.

"All of it. James, Lily, Remus, Peter… PETER!" His demeanour changed from demure to enraged in seconds, and he began to thrash. Harry grabbed both hands, pinning them to the chair arms.

"Who is Peter?" Harry asked, his voice changing from soft to commanding. Ginny began feeling at the pockets of her school robes – which she still wore from the previous night – and found her Aunt's old wand. She drew it and pointed at Black. The twins were both doing the same thing. Gabrielle and Daphne were watching with interest.

"Peter Pettigrew. One of your parent's friends Harry. Black killed him," Daphne clarified.

"I tried to," Black snapped, "but that slimy worm got away from me. Transformed into a rat and dove into the sewers and…"

"Ah, fuck!" Harry exclaimed, "You came to the castle looking for him? Why? How did you know!?" Ginny's heart began jackhammering in her chest. The man was clearly mad, but could mad men fabricate stories? Maybe it was something he clung to in Azkaban. The delusion that he was innocent.

Black was no longer listening. He was instead muttering about rats and worm tails and how he would kill them for what they did.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit," Harry grumbled. He snapped his wand into his hand from the holster on his wrist, pointing it at Black.

"Stupefy." He crumpled into silence. Harry slid his wand back and began rummaging through Black's tattered clothes.

"Harry?" Ginny asked, taking a hesitant step forward, "what are you…"

"Got it," Harry said, pulling an old piece of paper from the man's pocket. It was the front cover of the Daily Prophet. Displayed on the front was a picture of Harry and Ron. Poking out of the pocket on her brother's robes, was Scabbers. The penny dropped.

"Oh, merciful Merlin."


	13. Chapter 13

# Chapter 13:

_"I have found Gellert's notes on the woman. Or, more accurately, I have found her notes on us. She has written a large journal documenting what she has observed of our culture and magics. She seems fixated on two entities she believes exist here on Earth: a being called Imagination, and another called Equality. Only, from her observations, she seems to have come to the conclusion that this 'Equality' is dead, attributing the axial tilt to her fall. Could it be true? I find it a terrifying, yet intriguing prospect."_

_From Albus Dumbledore's Notes; 20th Century, Earth._

* * *

Harry bolted out of his room and down the stairs, Gabrielle on his heels. People who could transform into animals. What next? The Genie from Aladdin? Thomas the Tank Engine? Why oh why did his life have to suck so much?

He reached the fourth-year boys' dorm and kicked the door open. The duo rushed inside as Neville Longbottom jerked awake with a shriek.

"What's goann on?" Seamus moaned. Harry ignored them, moving to the side of Ron's bed. Sure enough, sleeping in his cage was Scabbers the rat. Harry checked the lock, then grabbed the cage. Ron remained snoring loudly in his bed.

"That it?" Gabrielle asked.

"Has to be," Harry said, then together they raced back up the stairs. Their rapid descent had evidentially caused enough of a ruckus for a prefect to stick their head out into the hallway from the Sixth-Year dorms. When he saw Harry and Gabrielle, he went beat red and slammed the door shut. Harry pushed the door of his rooms open and was greeted by the same scene he left. Fred, George and Ginny were still pointing their wands at Black, George with that odd piece of paper in his hand, and Daphne had her arms folded, staring at Black with morbid curiosity.

Harry slammed the cage down on the desk, waking the rat. As soon as it saw Black, it began to screech and writhe in its cage.

"Daphne," Harry said carefully, containing his anger, "the spell you used on Black. Do it." Daphne drew her wand, fixing it on the cage door, Ginny did the same, though the twins remained pointed at Black. Harry pulled the lock, and the rat attempted to bolt. Daphne's spell hit the creature, and it immediately transformed, just like Black had, into a man. He was short, with balding hair, and a squeamish face. His eyes were beady, and he stood hunched over.

Harry point blank stunned the man, then shot him two more times just to make sure.

"I hate my life," he said eventually. Then he picked his coffee – which had gone cold – from the table where he'd left it, and drank what remained.

The look on Professor McGonagall's face when she arrived provided Harry with all the proof he needed that the rat-man was Peter Pettigrew. When Lupin arrived, he had to be held back from punching the man. Gabrielle had taken the Invisibility Cloak, the Hat, and the files from Dumbledore's office back to the Beauxbatons carriage. Daphne had also left, intending to owl her father immediately and inform him that what could quite possibly the biggest legal case of the decade may just come to a head, and he'd probably want in on it. That left him, Ginny and Fred and George with McGonagall, Lupin, Dumbledore, Shacklebolt, Moody, a woman from the Ministry of Magic called Amelia Bones – whom Harry assumed was related to Susan – and Ron in his room, staring over the unconscious forms of both Black and Pettigrew.

"… And I lied to you Professor because quite frankly I don't trust a hair on your shiny silver head." Harry finished his improvised testimony. He had gotten a new coffee from a House Elf. He'd convinced Ginny to try one, and she'd spat it back out. He decided she'd need to try a latte first next time.

Dumbledore and Shacklebolt were both staring at him, and based on their gazes, Harry got the distinct impression that they both wanted to inflict vast amounts of pain on him. Dumbledore's look was far better concealed than Shacklebolt's was.

"Let me get this straight," Madame Bones said. She wore a monocle over her left eye, and Harry couldn't decide whether it was cool or creepy. "You came across Sirius Black, infamous mass-murderer, as he attempted to enter the Gryffindor Common Room. You stunned him with a stunning first-year spell because, and I hope I'm getting this bit right, that shackle on your arm is restricting your magic…"

"It also prevents me from leaving the school grounds," Harry added helpfully.

"Yes. Then, you dragged Black up to this room, kept him detained overnight, interrogating him until he divulged the location of this man," she gestured to the rat-man, "who was hiding as this boy's rat." Ron hickuped.

"Finally, you apprehended the rat and turned him back to a man. Only then did you decide to inform a staff member."

"That's correct," Harry confirmed cheerfully as he took another sip of coffee.

"Mmmm. This is good coffee. Professor Dumbledore, your House Elves are to be commended." Madame Bones raised an eyebrow. Shacklebolt looked ready to draw his wand. Moody was grinning so widely you could easily mistake him for a kid in a candy shop. Professors McGonagall and Lupin were leaning against the wall in the corner of the room, whispering quietly to each other as they stared at the unconscious men.

"And you didn't inform the staff because…"

"The staff, whom I hold in high esteem – all except Snape at least – are obligated to go to the Headmaster with any potential threat to the school they discover. I don't trust the Headmaster as far as I can throw him. Therefore, I didn't tell anyone I had Black here. The only danger was to myself, and it was a danger I was willing to take on to obtain the truth. Black seems to have limited cognitive faculties, so getting any useful information out of him took a great deal of time. As soon as I determined that Black was innocent, I contacted the relevant authority figures." Harry raised his hands as if this was obvious, then took another drink. He had never thanked Nylah for her stuffy language more. It made you sound sophisticated and mature, which was definitely what he needed right now.

Madame Bones stared at Harry for several minutes. It might have been mildly frightening, if Mak wasn't floating around the woman's face trying to use her monocle as a mirror.

"Very well. I suppose I ought to thank you for the apprehension of two dangers to your fellow students then," Madame Bones said, a slightly flustered tone present in her voice.

"No need to thank me, Madame. The knowledge that my colleagues are safe is more than enough for me." Moody actually barked out a laugh at that one. Shacklebolt's hand moved for his wand.

"Nonsense. You caught him. That means the galleon reward goes to you. The DMLE will have the reward delivered to your Gringotts account by the end of the day." She flicked her wand, and both bodies floated up into the air.

"Moody, Shacklebolt, let's go." Then she stared flatly at Dumbledore.

"You and I will be having words." She turned on her heel and walked out the door, the Aurors trailing after her.

"Professor McGonagall," Harry said, drawing the rooms attention back to him, "if you don't mind me asking, what became of the incident last night?"

The Transfiguration Professor, who looked incredibly worse for wear – numerous wisps of hair hanging free of her bun, bags under her eyes and a slumped posture – sighed.

"Letters have been sent to the parents of all those involved explaining the incident and what caused it. Fifty House points have also been taken from each individual." She looked positively ill as she said it. Harry respected that.

"Okay. You should also know that it has come to my attention that Ginny's roommates were ostracising her, forcing her to sleep on the opposing side of the room to them and not speaking to her. I've taken the liberty of moving her belongings to the Head Girls room until such a time as you, as Head of House, can decide what to do concerning the situation. I couldn't in good conscience allow her to spend the night in the room given the general attitudes demonstrated last night." McGonagall was instantly on her feet. She rushed over to Ginny, who was looking at Harry with a shocked expression, and pulled the girl into a hug.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Weasley. You should have come to me when all this started, and I would have fixed it as quick as a fiddle."

"It's… alright, Professor. Really," she said a bit breathlessly. The looked Harry in the eye and mouthed, 'thank you.' He and Gabrielle had moved Ginny's trunk next door and made it so the bed looked slept in after Harry and Daphne returned with Black. It had been Gabrielle's idea, and the Head Girls room was connected to the same hallway his was, so it hadn't been hard to move her stuff to the room.

"Harry?" Professor Dumbledore said, "if you wouldn't mind, I'd like a word outside." Mak began rapidly shaking her head, but Harry nodded and followed outside. Ron had vanished, but Fred and George had taken McGonagall's seat beside the silent Lupin. George was fiddling with that piece of parchment.

Harry closed the door behind him and stood in the hallway, looking Dumbledore in the eye.

"Harry, you realise the position that lying to me in this way forces me into?"

Harry rolled his eyes. He'd known this was coming.

"I was considering, given your apparent devotion to your studies, the removal of the Binder. However, your actions here today, while noble, were reckless and posed a great threat to yourself and others. I cannot trust you enough to remove the Binder, and as such, it will have to remain." Harry yawned.

"If that's all Headmaster? I am rather tired after my vigil over the night. If you don't mind, I will endeavour to get some rest." There was no sparkle in Dumbledore's eye. His lips were pursed, and his posture was very straight. He did not like being dismissed.

"Very well, Harry. Enjoy your rest." Then he turned on his heel and strode down the stairs. Harry caught the sound of people shuffling out of Dumbledore's way as he moved. It was no surprise, really. All this would do was add to his legend. Rolling his eyes and suppressing a very real yawn, he went back into the room. He considered finishing his coffee but instead opted for the warmth of his blankets. They were one thing he certainly preferred about life at Hogwarts.

* * *

## 2 years ago,

Ginny sat on the floor of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, crying her eyes out. This was the third attack. First, it was Mr Filch's cat, Mrs Norris. Petrified and left hung on the wall beside the blood writing. Blood she was now sure was her own. The cut on her wrist she didn't remember making was the only answer. The second attack was Colin. Colin had been her friend. Now he was petrified, lying frozen in the Hospital Wing. Now, Justin Finch Fletchley was dead. The teachers had kept it quiet, saying he'd just gone on holidays early. But Ginny _knew._ She'd started having thoughts that weren't her own when she came near any of the muggleborn students.

_Mudbloods!_

_Go away!!!_

She was losing weight, no matter how much food she ate. And she… she was undergoing changes. Changes she knew shouldn't be happening yet. She'd had her period a few days ago, and had asked Ron's friend Hermione for help with it. Hermione had provided her with some muggle products to help while she got used to it, then a list of spells to try once she was more comfortable with her magic. She'd been a lifesaver.

It wasn't just that either. Ginny was getting taller. A lot taller. At least an inch a week. Her body shape was changing rapidly too. In another month she'd probably need to owl her mum for some bras.

It made no sense, and she was getting terrified. The only person she could talk to was Tom. Yes, Tom would know what to do.

She pulled the Diary out of her bag and balanced it on her knees before digging out a quill and ink.

'Tom,' she wrote, 'I think I killed someone.'

'Nonsense. You wouldn't hurt a fly,' Tom replied.

'Something is happening to me. I'm… changing. It's scary.'

'You shouldn't be scared. I'm sure you're worrying about nothing. Now, last time we spoke, you mentioned a boy called Harry Potter. Is he a student?'

Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. She was worrying about nothing. Change was healthy, and she should be excited by it, not scared.

Relaxed, she continued writing to Tom about the story of Harry Potter. Tom really was the best thing that ever happened to her.

* * *

## The Present Day

Gabrielle exited her room, dressed in a fresh set of robes, intending to head for Madame Maxine's cabin. She wanted to tell the Headmistress about Harry's capture of Sirius Black. Gabrielle's mother was on the Beauxbatons school board, so she knew there had been significant debate on whether to go through with the tournament after Black escaped. If Madame Maxine knew that Black might be innocent, and that he'd been apprehended, she'd surely sleep easier at night.

That, at least, was her plan. However, as soon as she closed her bedroom door, she was accosted by her friends Leanne, Beatrice, Jacque and Eleanor.

"Gabrielle! Everyone's talking about it, you have to tell us how he was?" Eleanor asked, bouncing up and down. The blonde was a terrible gossip.

"How who was?" she asked, confused.

"Harry Potter!" Gabrielle started her walk towards the Headmistress's quarters.

"What about him?"

Leanne, a short brunette, rolled her eyes.

"People saw you with him last night, then you disappeared after the feast. Didn't even come to Fleur's party. We were worried!" Gabrielle snorted. She very much doubted that.

"Then, the rumour is that you came out of Hogwarts this morning, _late _this morning, wearing a boy's shirt and carrying your robes!" Jacque exclaimed.

Gabrielle gritted her teeth. She'd carried her robes in a bundle to hide the things Harry had stolen from Headmaster Dumbledore. She didn't have any intention of giving his shirt back, though. It… smelt nice. She supposed that was an odd thing to think, but it did. And she had slept on his couch the whole night.

"So! What was he like! You have to tell us!" Eleanor repeated. Gabrielle sighed.

"We didn't have sex, Eleanor! There's nothing to tell!" She couldn't help the blush that rose on her cheeks at the implication. It certainly hadn't been on her mind at all the previous night. She'd been too preoccupied with Ginny. Then that morning they'd interrogated a murderer! But… well… she wouldn't have said _no._ He was very good looking after all.

"You did! Liar! Come on, give us the details!" Gabrielle blushed even deeper.

"I did not! We didn't do anything of the sort. I was helping Ginny, the Hogwarts Triwizard Champion. Turns out, Harry put her name in the Goblet of Fire – breaking the age line – so he can test her. If she does well in the tasks, he's going to take her under his wing for his secret missions." Gabrielle said, repeating the lie Harry had started the previous night. It was clever. His legend was so massive now that nothing he supposedly did would come across as far-fetched. And considering he was about to get credited as having captured Sirius Black and exonerated him… well, he wasn't going to become any less popular any time soon.

"Okay, fine. Let's say I believe that," Jacque said, "why didn't you come back to the carriage then?"

"Ginny was getting massively bullied by the Hogwarts kids. I helped Harry get her settled into a new room. By then, it was too late to come back to the carriage."

"Where did you sleep then?" Beatrice asked.

Gabrielle flushed. There was no good way to answer that.

"Well… um… I…"

"See. I told you! Oh, come on you have to tell us! Was he good?!" Eleanor asked again, practically springing with each step. Gabrielle failed spectacularly in containing her blush.

"Ooo. He _was _good. I knew it!"

"Eleanor," Gabrielle hissed as they reached the open common room, "I told you we did not sleep together. I crashed on his couch. That's it."

"And came back wearing _his _shirt. Sure, Gabi, sure."

Gabrielle was saved from further embarrassment by Fleur, who, upon seeing her, quickly rose and rushed over.

"Fleur! Congratulations on making Champion!" Gabrielle beamed, "You've got this in the bag. I'm sure…" Fleur slapped her across the face.

"What were you thinking!!!"

Gabrielle, and her friends, were so stunned by the outburst that none of them so much as twitched.

"I cannot believe you! You slept with Harry Potter! You gave yourself to that rude pig…"

Gabrielle snapped. After seeing the lengths Harry went to rescue the faeries. Witnessing his devotion to protecting Ginny, in spite of her complete exile from the rest of the school, and the kindness he'd shown that morning. Listening to his story about the harshness of the life he'd lived, and what he'd do to protect the innocent – even people like the policewoman who he didn't even know. No. Gabrielle was not going to let anyone bad mouth him. He deserved better than that.

"He is not rude! Or a pig! He's one of the kindest people I've ever met! You're just mad that he resisted your allure. News flash Fleur, you don't always get what you want! I don't know where this attitude has come from, but I suggest you lose it. Fast!"

"My attitude?" Fleur said, stepping even further into her personal space so that Gabrielle was forced to look up at her big sister, "I'm not the one who threw herself at the first boy who bats his eyelashes at you!"

"I didn't throw myself at anyone!" Gabrielle snapped, "And even if I did, I'm certainly not obliged to explain my actions to you." With that, Gabrielle pushed Fleur backwards and stormed out of the room, headed for Madame Maxine's office. As she passed a window, the sun flashed green.

* * *

Albus sat at his desk, staring into the midday light, not really seeing anything. The Sorting Hat, the Invisibility Cloak, and several pages of notes on his plans had been taken in the night. The only conclusion he could come to was that another person had broken into his office was neither Black nor Harry. Black wouldn't have cared for the items taken. Harry certainly would have taken his mother's jewellery box and his father's House Ring, both of which were still in James' trunk despite the theft of the cloak. It had to be a third party. Perhaps someone from Silverlight? A servant of Odium? Or another world hopper? Either way, his plans may have been discovered, and he'd lost two of the splinters. Now, instead of the five he'd had, he retained only three. They'd been so close to their goal too! He would have to check the Resurrection Stone's hiding place.

He sighed and took hold of one of the spindly silver objects on his desk. It was shaped like a solar system. He placed his hand on the sun and twisted. The sphere locked into its new position and began to glow red.

Outside his window, the sun flashed green, indicating another shift in the axial tilt. Albus breathed a sigh of relief. His work was always easier when the world was set to goodness.


	14. Chapter 14

# Chapter 14:

_"I… I believe I have solved this riddle. This woman – whose name I still do not know – has received a letter. How that is even possible, I do not know. It simply appeared on the floor of the rooms I have set aside for her here at Hogwarts. She remains incommunicable, broken in the mind by Gellert's torture, unable to read its contents. I am not as restricted."_

_From Albus Dumbledore's Notes; 20th Century, Earth._

* * *

By the time dinner came around that night, Harry was even more famous than he had been when he first showed up at Hogwarts. His list of new accomplishments included, but were not limited to:

  1. Sleeping with a Veela – no it was _two _Veela, but he'd decided one was better than the other;
  1. Duelling and defeating mass-murderer Sirius Black – or, the more accurate version, all without a wand;
  2. And summoning an avenging angel with a giant sword to kill a dozen dementors.

But the biggest piece of news was that Harry was at Hogwarts searching for new recruits for his top-secret missions. Harry had then entered first recruit, former-dark witch Ginny Weasley, into the Triwizard Tournament – bypassing the age line – all as part of a test. The only part of that he liked was that Ginny was now officially a _former _dark-witch, and some of the first years seemed willing to talk to her at least, though old habits died hard.

Now, Hogwarts was split between two factions. The first half was debating what his secret missions were about. Was he taking down dark wizards in other countries? Was he working for the Statute of Secrecy Task Force? Was he hunting rouge Death Eaters? Magical creatures? Vampires? Giants? All of them at once?

The second faction were the ones trying to suck up to him in order to become his next 'recruit'. Someone (Harry intended to have words with Daphne about this) had also 'leaked' the information that Harry hadn't actually been sorted into Gryffindor, just put there, to the school populous, which made even Slytherins willing to speak to him. His current companion was aspiring journalist Tracey Davis, one of Daphne's friends.

"I think an autobiography would be an excellent idea. You can get your story, the real story, not what all these nutters are saying, out there!" Harry really wished Ginny had come to dinner, but she'd elected to stay in her room until things died down a little. Fred and George had vanished with Professor Lupin doing God knew what. That meant Harry was on his own with the vultures, and they wanted a feast.

Daphne began pushing her way into his crowd of onlookers – it appeared the usual house tables rules were no longer being enforced – shouting his name.

"Let her through!" he shouted, and the Red Sea parted at his will. If this kept going, he was going to die of a swollen head. Daphne walked through and handed him a letter.

"Thank you very much for the sorting tip," he said dryly, looking at the fancy looking wax seal on the letter.

"I figured you'd prefer some company that wasn't from Gryffindor for once. Not that I'm prejudiced, but there isn't a great deal of excess intelligence to go around in the house of the lion."

"You're right there," he muttered before breaking the seal. Tracey and an Indian girl from Ravenclaw were looking over his shoulder, but he figured Daphne wouldn't have given it to him here if she didn't want people to know what was in it. He scanned the letter and breathed a sigh of relief. Daphne's mother and father – both lawyers – had arranged to take on Black's case at a trial set for the next week. They had also stated that should he ever need legal representation; they would be more than happy to help.

"Cheers, Daphne," he said, handing back the letter and raising his can of Red-Bull to her in a mock salute.

"No problem. I think they're excited actually. They do love hard cases."

"In more ways than one," he noted, before returning to his drink.

Harry was almost finished with his food when the crowd parted again. Fleur Delacour was storming towards him, a look of murder in her eyes. Ah, so she'd heard about the whole 'fucking her sister' thing. Harry groaned, turning towards the Veela.

"I don't suppose I can keep your corpse?" Daphne asked.

"I think I'm going to need it for a while yet," he told her.

"Harry Potter! I cannot believe you!" She screamed.

"Really? I always believe me, even when I'm lying. It's an odd thing I've found."

"You took advantage of my sister!" Harry slammed his fist on the table, eyes going dark.

"I did no such thing, and I will have a retraction and an apology right now." He didn't yell, the coldness of the statement giving it even greater weight.

"I will not! You are not to go near my sister again or I'll…"

"Your sister is perfectly capable of making her own decisions, and it's certainly not for you to decide who she spends her time with. Now, I will request an apology one final time before I become angry, I suggest you use it." Harry nodded to Mak, who nodded in reply. With his shackle on, he couldn't use his powers to intimidate people like he used too, so they'd come up with a different idea early in his stay at Hogwarts. Looked like he was going to need it.

"You insolent little boy!"

Harry sighed, "I asked nicely." In a second, he was on his feet, the crowd surging back. He turned to face Fleur as she drew her wand, and Mak transformed into a giant silvery blue sword that dropped into his hand as he raised it. The point came to rest a centimetre from Fleur's throat, and the entire crowd gasped in shock and awe – Mak was very much visible. He heard rushed footsteps from behind him, probably Professor McGonagall coming to diffuse the situation, but she couldn't break through the crowd. Panic instantly jumped into Fleur's eyes. Mist curled from the blade's surface.

"What is going on here!?" The crowd spun to see the giant form of Madame Maxine striding into the hall, Dumbledore on one side, Gabrielle on the other.

"Fleur! What are you doing!?" Gabrielle exclaimed, rushing forward. Harry gestured with his free hand, and the crowd parted for her.

"Me?! I'm trying to protect you! He's holding a sword to my throat!"

"Mr Potter, kindly dismiss that blade immediately." Dumbledore's voice brokered no argument, so Harry held Mak in the sword shape just to spite him.

"I will do no such thing until Miss Delacour apologises for insinuating that I am a rapist!" Harry snapped back.

"You did what!?" Gabrielle screamed.

"I think perhaps both sides should relinquish their weapons, then we can talk," Madame Maxine said gently. Harry, smirking at Fleur and Dumbledore both, stepped back, and Mak transformed back into her normal form, heavy breathing. Turning into a non-humanoid form was incredibly draining for her.

"A fantastic idea, wouldn't you say Fleur?" Harry said. The Veela reluctantly slid her wand back into her pocket.

Gabrielle reached the duo and immediately stood between Fleur and Harry, facing Fleur. She glanced quickly to Mak as she panted, then focused her glare on her older sister.

"How dare you say something like that!"

"How dare I? How dare you! I wasn't the one banging a celebrity from a foreign school after her sister was just chosen as Triwizard Champion!"

"That's what this is about really then? Jealousy?"

"NO! It's about…"

"It fucking is! Sorry Fleur, but if you hadn't been such a bitch when we arrived, maybe it would have been _you_ getting laid. As it stands, the only reason I even made friends with Harry in the first place was to apologise for _your _attitude!"

"You don't know what you're talking about. You're just…"

"a little girl? Is that what you were going to say?" Fleur and Gabrielle were both flushing furiously now. He could hear Daphne sniggering quietly behind him, and what he thought was the scratching of a quill as someone took notes. Madame Maxine appeared, stepping between the two Veela and putting hands on each girl's shoulder.

"Now, girls. We are going to settle this like adults." Harry had always found that phrase incredibly stupid. Adults yelled at each other just as often as children and teenagers did! Hell, the British parliament even had a dedicated time of day set out where people could go to town on each other called Question Time. But what did he know?

"Fleur. You are going to apologise for calling Mr Potter a rapist. Gabrielle. You are going to apologise for missing your sister's celebration. Your other quarrels can be settled when the populations of three schools are not in attendance." Both girls blushed, looked to their feet and mumbled their apologies. Madame Maxine then steered both girls in the direction of the Beauxbatons carriage. Harry straightened his robes, smiled to Dumbledore, whose face seemed caught between amused and intuitive, and made his way towards the Gryffindor Common Room.

It wasn't long before Daphne appeared from one of the secret passages.

"How'd you do the thing with the sword if you've still got the thing on?"

Harry laughed. "The sword?" Mak was sleeping on his shoulder, exhausted. "Oh, that was just Mak."

"It wasn't real?"

"Nope. Would have turned to mist if it so much as touched her." Daphne snorted.

"Fooled me."

"That was kind of the point," Harry said. They locked eyes for a moment, before bursting into laughter.

* * *

"You will do no such thing!" The Sorting Hat exclaimed.

"You don't want to be free?" Harry asked, incredulously. It was the next morning, and Harry, Ginny, Daphne, Mak, Ember and Gabrielle were in Harry's room in Gryffindor Tower preparing to release the captured faeries.

"Free? I chose to be bound here! Rowena Ravenclaw herself held my bond Harry Potter, and we devised this plan together! I bound myself to this castle willingly, and so long as I remain bound, it cannot be taken by the forces of evil while the Headmaster remains in office."

"Wait on. You're powering the ward scheme for the _entire castle_?" Daphne exclaimed. Gabrielle whistled. Impressive.

"Yes. If you were to destroy my vessel and release me, the protections would fail immediately, and I imagine I'd be instantly pulled back to the Valley by the Pact of Truth."

"Huh. So that's why no one has ever managed to replicate the wards on Hogwarts? They were crafted by an Imagineer?" Ginny realised.

"Precisely," the hat confirmed. The group sat in silence for a moment.

"Okay. We'll leave you be for now," Harry said, "It's your choice. But I'm destroying the Invisibility Cloak. I won't leave whoever's inside trapped any longer."

"I have no objections," the Sorting Hat said, "but how exactly do you propose to do this? That cloak will have more protective spells on it than you can imagine!" Gabrielle had been wondering the same thing if she was honest. Harry just smirked. She swallowed. Why did he have to look so damn hot when he did that?

"It hasn't met me yet." Then he turned towards the three girls.

"I'm going to need a hand here. Wands out." They did as instructed, drawing their wands and stepping forward anxiously.

"I think I have an idea on how to get this fucking thing off me," he said, walking over to his desk. He knelt down on the floor and placed his right arm – the one with the shackle – on the counter.

"When Dumbledore tried to place the trace on me, the shackle got so hot it began to burn. Then, whenever McGonagall takes it off, she taps it with her wand. I've tried every unlocking spell in my textbooks and the library. I even tried to just blow my arm off." Gabrielle gasped, but Harry waved it off, "I can regrow it. Hurts like a bitch, but I've done it before."

"My only conclusion is that the metal – aluminium – acts as a sort of block that prevents me from accessing the Art of Design specifically. The other things, like it's dexterity and my inability to take it off, are most likely separate enchantments. But, and here's where you get to applaud my genius, if someone _else _does the unlocking spell, it should release normally. If that doesn't work, then all three of you doing it at the same time should be enough power to overload the locking mechanism and release me. Capiche?" They nodded. Ginny pointed her wand at the bracelet and cast the unlocking charm. Nothing happened.

"Worth a shot," Harry muttered, then gestured for them to go again. Gabrielle pointed her wand at Harry's arm, along with Daphne and Ginny, and said the words.

"Alohomora!" The shackle began to vibrate, and its surface sizzled, Harry grabbed his arm, hissing in pain. Then, the heat vanished, and the clasp unlocked with a faint click. Though his arm was now covered in blisters, Harry grinned.

"Fabulous."

He stretched his arm, and a faint white glow enveloped his skin. The burns healed in an instant. His eyes rolled into the back of his head.

"Oh, that feels much better." Gabrielle smiled softly. Harry took a deep breath and snapped back to reality. For some reason, he looked healthier suddenly. More vibrant. The sparkle in his eyes was more pronounced, and the soft aura that he carried intensified.

He grabbed the cloak from where it lay on the desk and placed it on the stone floor.

"Here goes nothing," he muttered, then placed both hands on the surface of the cloak.

Within seconds the room began to heat. Gabrielle began to sweat in the heavy winter clothing. Ginny was already taking hers off.

Harry's gaze was fixed on the shimmery cloak. She couldn't really focus on his hands. There was a haze of heat around them, making it hard to concentrate. Daphne began to back away, coughing.

"Come on," Harry muttered. Ember had jumped up into the air and was now lying with her hands behind her back as if sunbaking. Only, her body was orientated so that it faced Harry, not the sun. It looked very odd.

"What are you doing?" Ginny asked. She'd dropped her robes to the floor, and was unbuttoning her shirt. The corner of the carpet caught alight, and Daphne shot it with a burst of water. The water evaporated within a second of hitting the ground. The stone had begun to take on a reddish hue. Gabrielle was dripping in sweat now, and she too started stripping layers.

"Decay Force. Destroys the chemical bonds between atoms, and creates radiation as a by-product," Harry said, straining. His clothes were soaked.

"Radiation!" Gabrielle exclaimed, heart lurching.

"What's radiation?" Ginny and Daphne asked.

Harry and Gabrielle didn't have time to answer, because, at that moment, the window exploded outwards, and the rug, the couch and the table all caught alight. The stone grew an angry red, a winning sound erupted in the air, and Gabrielle's skin started to burn. Ginny was red as a tomato. Daphne, who'd retreated to the corner of the room, looked a bit better.

Then the Invisibility Cloak caught fire. Green flames erupted along the silvery surface, then they turned to blue, then pink, then a white so pure she couldn't look at it. A crackle, like that of static electricity, filled the air, followed by a _'BANG!!!' _so loud it knocked Gabrielle to her knees. She slammed her eyes closed, dropped her wand, and raised her hands to her ears to block out the scream that followed.

_"Stretch forth thy hand, Gabrielle!" _said a voice in her mind. Her ears were ringing, pinpricks of pain erupted all over her body. And in the darkness behind her eyes, she could see a silver hand reaching out for her.

_"Take my hand! Quickly! There is a hunter! He looks for me!"_ Gabrielle, not entirely aware of what she was doing, reached for the silvery hand. She clasped it in hers, and a jolt of shocking power surged into her. Her blood began to boil, and she screamed as the light enveloped her.

All her pain vanished in a second, replaced with strength, with vigour and with an inexplicable urge to _create._ She opened her eyes.

She was still on her knees, but all the damage to Harry's room had seemingly been repaired. She no longer felt hot or tired. Electricity crackled across her body, frost clung to her clothes, and mist pooled around her feet. Her hand was held out in front of her, palm upwards. In it was a tornado of silver smoke curling around itself, convulsing, beaming with light.

Slowly it began to solidify. The smoke formed into legs, arms, a body, clothes, and finally a head. The mist around her feet vanished, the light faded, and Gabrielle's breath eventually returned to her.

The faerie in her palm had brown skin and curly golden hair. His eyes were vivid green, his ears long and pointed, and his body was covered in tattoos. He wore what she thought were animal hide pants, and no shirt.

"Hi," she croaked. He turned towards her, staring inquisitively. Then he sat down, cross-legged, and began to look around. Harry and Ginny, both healed and redressed, knelt beside her, Mak and Ember on their shoulders. Daphne, who'd also recovered, stood slack-jawed a few metres away.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked softly, tapping her shoulder.

"It can be quite jarring," Ginny agreed. Gabrielle just nodded; glad her heartrate was finally settling down. Ember and Mak flew down and landed on her palm beside the new faerie.

"Do you remember who you are?" Mak asked softly, taking the faerie's hand while Ember ran a hand down his arm. He swallowed, scrunching his face in concentration.

"Vel," he finally said in a deep baritone voice. He suddenly looked very exhausted, and Gabrielle felt herself replicating the feeling.

"Hey, relax. Sleep. We'll be here when you wake up." Gabrielle was asleep before her head hit the stone.

* * *

## One and a half years ago,

Ginny stood; feet buried in mud as she looked out over the sea of sludge. The rainbow light she'd been following was a beam of energy that shot up into the sky. The mud around the glow seemed to convulse, bubbling and frothing.

She'd finally reached it. And found nothing to help her. The beam was just that, a beam. She couldn't touch it – the stream bent away from her when she tried. All around the beam was the sea of mud. The sea, and an island of stone. It was covered in sludge and slime, but it was solid. From her perch at the border of the rock and mud, she could just see what looked like a cave mouth a few hundred metres away from her. The entrance was on the stone island, and Ginny couldn't bring herself to step onto it.

The wrongness that permeated this whole nightmare place was strongest here, and she _knew _that its source was in that cave. But it was also the source of the beam. Maybe, if she could get to the source, she could stop it? Stop the nightmares once and for all.

But that would involve stepping onto the stone.

A soft buzzing in the air alerted her to the presence of something else. She'd seen the spirits a few times now. The golden one always came first. Shaped like a man with red eyes and bright white hair, he wore wizarding robes and glowed with golden light. The spirit never spoke, merely watching her, observing. His expressions were similar to a human's, though. She had seen confusion, curiosity and amusement on his face throughout her journey to the beam.

The second spirit arrived soon after. This one was a woman with a dress of midnight black and skin of ash white. Her hair was comprised of flickering flames, and her eyes glowed with an inner fire. This spirit had tried to speak to Ginny several times now, but the gold spirit always stopped her. Ginny had become too haunted to care.

She knew she was the one behind the attacks. Justin was dead, and Penelope Clearwater had been petrified a few days ago. Talk had begun of closing the school. Aurors were on the premises at all times now, and students were only allowed to move in groups. She wanted to go and tell someone, to force someone to lock her away. She just didn't understand! Why was she doing these things? Why couldn't she remember doing them? Her body was still changing unnaturally. She looked like she should be a third year, not the runty first year she'd started as, and the hunger… the hunger was agonising. No matter how much she ate, it was still there. She was getting tired all the time, her mind sluggish.

She'd decided that she must be under the effects of some curse. But why? And how had it gotten on her? Were these nightmares her punishment? Her precious moment of lucidity where she could do nothing to save herself or others?

It was just hopeless.

So she lay down in the mud and closed her eyes, trying to hide from the guilt and the horror of what she'd done, and what she'd continue to do.

* * *

## The Present Day

"The first thing you need to understand about being an Imagineer is this," Harry said, pacing. Ginny stood with Gabrielle, hopping from foot to foot in the November cold. They were outside the castle, near the border of the Forbidden Forest. Mak was watching the perimeter and Fred and George had provided them with a handy spell called the Notice-Me-Not, which they'd cast around their small practice field.

"The Art of Design is about belief. Every single thing you do requires it. You can't just wave your wand, say some words, and expect something to happen. No. If you want to get anywhere with using this power, you need to believe that you can do the impossible. You can shape reality to your will because you _can._ No other reason. The power is yours to command. Yours to own. You just have to have faith."

There hadn't been any snow yet, but the wind was a bit chilly, so Ginny and Gabrielle wore thick coats. Ember was floating beside Ginny's head. Vel, who couldn't fly – or perhaps hadn't figured out how yet – sat on Gabrielle's shoulder. The faerie had yet to speak more than he had that first day. Gabrielle was worried about him, but both Harry and Ginny assured her that Mak and Ember had started their journeys a similar way. Ginny didn't think the Veela girl believed them.

"The first thing I want you to do is close your eyes, and bring your focus to your breathing." Ginny did as instructed, breathing in and out. She'd used this power before, so she understood what Harry was talking about. However, she'd only ever used it sparingly, because it always left her tired, and it was hard to control. Now she understood why. She'd been trying to use her wand to cast the power as a spell, not really understanding. She'd managed to hollow out her bedroom passage… former bedroom passage, but that was about it. She'd been too scared to try anything else.

She focussed on her breath. In and out. In and out.

"In that solitude, listen to the sounds. The birds in the trees, the winds brushing the leaves, and rippling of the lake." She could hear them. The birdsong, the rustling of the branches, the splashing of the giant squid as it frolicked in the water.

"Now you want to use that sound, that setting, to build a world. Let your imagination fill in the gaps. Why are the birds singing? They're singing in greeting of course. Why would they be singing anything else? After all, there is a unicorn galloping out of the forest, offering a greeting in return. It's rude not to greet such a creature." Ginny could see it in her mind's eye. A gorgeous white equine creature galloping out of the forest, silvery mane flaring as it ran. A prickle ran along her skin.

"But wait," Harry continued, voice distant, "why is the Unicorn here? There's a storm approaching." The air turned heavy, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Ginny shivered as her skin began to tingle.

"Lightning!" Bolts of electricity dropped from her mental sky, and her stomach flipped as something suddenly danced to life inside her. A _'crack!' _echoed around her, and Ginny jumped back in fright, eyes snapping open.

Standing on the edge of the forest, galloping through a sudden deluge of rain, was the most magnificent creature she had ever seen. Not a metre from her, the ground where Gabrielle had been standing was burnt black. Harry held Gabrielle a few paces away. The silver-haired girl was panting heavily, faerie clinging to her shirt frantically.

"Well done! Both of you!" Harry said, releasing Gabrielle.

"I did that?!" Gabrielle exclaimed, taking heavy breaths. The rain stopped, and the storm clouds vanished as if they'd never been.

"Yep. The Unicorn was Ginny, though." Ginny beamed, watching the beautiful white coat as the Unicorn raced away.

"We just used our first power, Probability, and our second – the Six Forces," Harry explained, dusting off his hands. His clothes were already dry from the deluge. Ginny had dried off before she even realised it had rained at all!

"We can use imagination to bend the rules of probability so a thing that _could _happen _does _happen, or vice versa. There _could _have been a Unicorn in the area, so there _was._"

They nodded.

"The second, and the more useful, are the Six Forces of Imagination. Gabrielle, you used the Charge Force to create the storm. Charge allows control over electricity, magnetism, light and sound. Basically, anything affected by an Electromagnetic Field can be manipulated using the Charge Force. It's paired with the Life Force – each force has a pair. Life Force allows for the manipulation of the energy field generated by the souls of objects or people. It can be used to heal wounds or inflict them. You can also, if you're not careful, snuff a person's soul with the snap of your fingers, killing instantly." Ginny swallowed hard.

"The next pair are Strength and Decay. Strength allows you to intensify or reduce the bonds holding atoms together…" Ginny raised an eyebrow and Harry sighed.

"Right. Wizard education sucks. I forgot. Um… so everything around us is made up of matter. Strength increases or decreases the bonds between that matter. I could use the Strength Force to create a wall of air by binding the oxygen in the air together so tightly that you couldn't pass it by. Or I could cleave your shirt in half. Make sense?"

Not really, but Ginny nodded anyway.

"Examples will help," Harry said, continuing, "Decay is the most dangerous. It destroys things. Breaks them down at a fundamental level. Everything has a natural rate of decay, with this force, you can speed that up or slow it down. I can cause all the plants around us to wither and die, or I can disintegrate my hand." Ginny shivered. "But Decay comes with a cost. It generates radiation. What type depends on what you're trying to do, but in most cases, it's going to be harmful to you and bystanders if exposed in high doses. Pure Decay Force will destroy any form of physical matter instantly."

"The final pair is Fusion and Division. Fusion is basically Gravity. Decreasing its power allows you to fly or move with less resistance. Increasing it will make you weight a ton, and you'll be virtually immovable. Fusion pulls matter together, attracting it to wherever you want it to go, rather than the ground. It can increase your physical strength as well."

"Division is probably the most fascinating. It's the opposite of Gravity. Instead of attracting matter, it repulses it. You can use Division to slice apart space-time like butter, creating pocket dimensions or forcefields. I once used Division to transport a ten-foot concrete pylon into another dimension."

He chuckled at the memory, then grew serious.

"Now, this is a crucial part, so listen closely. Our powers only work for a limited time. Whatever we do, if it's not permanent, will revert back after a certain amount of time, dependent on how much power and concentration you put into it. For example, I can't go around curing everyone's cancer. Why? Because if I did heal them, they'd revert back as soon as the power wore off. What I can do is heal a man's ribs within a few minutes of him breaking them. Why? Because reality hasn't really 'set' yet. The man who got hit by a car five years ago? I can't save him, because his body has already adjusted to being paralysed. But I get to him while he's still unconscious in hospital, I should be able to help him. Remember, it's all about belief. Using the Art of Design is about the Willing Suspension of Disbelief. You can _believe _that a lightning bolt can fall from the sky where you want it too. But the rest of the world doesn't believe that. While a person's disbelief is suspended, while their understanding isn't firm, that is where we do our best work." Harry threw his hand out, and a giant clump of rock fist rose up out of the ground and fist-bumped him.

"I can shape a giant rock fist beneath the earth using Strength Force, then levitate it using Fusion, because I believe that I can do it. But my belief can only push it so far. Eventually, _your _belief, as the bystander, reasserts reality into its more natural shape. This rock _can't _fist bump me, because it's a rock." The fist collapsed back to dirt.

"The exception is when we inflict a permanent change. I can hit someone with a lightning bolt and give them super nasty burns. Putting them into an instant coma. But lightning bolts don't just fall out of the sky at my command, so in a few minutes he'll wake up perfectly fine, though his brain might be a little skewwhiff. However, if I kill him instantly with my bolt of lightning, he stays dead, because even shifting reality and probability can't bring back the deceased. Same goes for anything hit with pure Decay Force. Fusion and Division can be used the same way. If I use Fusion to create a rock wall that replaces or adds to an existing rock wall, and fuse that into the structure of what already exists, it will remain there. If I use Division to hide a person, without anyone seeing their disappearance, they'll stay lost. With me?"

Ginny wasn't really, but she sort of understood.

"Well. Let's give it a shot then…"

* * *

# Authors Notes

This is the last chapter until we get back from our trip. Thanks so much for understanding, and we wish you all a happy holidays.

See you all when we get back!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're Back True Believers! It's Ghost and Miracle here, and we're thrilled to say that we have returned from our honeymoon, and that means our stories are coming off hiatus and kicking back into gear.
> 
> What's not so thrilling, is what we came home to. Red skies, smoke so thick you couldn't see more than a block ahead of you, over 6000 homes lost, 34 dead, and 18,636,000 hectares burnt. Sydney University has estimated that more than 480 million animals have died since September as a result of the fires. Our country, our home is on fire, and the people in power refuse to do anything to fix the problem, instead taking vacations to Hawaii and signing deals to bulldoze Koala sanctuaries.
> 
> Now, we can't do much on our own, but what we can do and have done is donate to the hundreds of volunteer firefighters who have been out in the bush fighting the good fight. These guys are real heroes, real legends and any cent you can afford helps them, the thousands of animals being treated in animal hospitals, and the people whose livelihoods have been destroyed. If you want to donate, follow the links below:
> 
> www.firefightaustralia.com.au
> 
> www.rspca.org.au/
> 
> www.australiawildlifefund.com
> 
> www.redcross.org.au/campaigns/disaster-relief-and-recovery-donate
> 
> Thanks so much everybody. For more on our updating schedule and future, see the endnotes.

# Volume II – Imagination’s Folly

# Chapter 15:

_“Friend,_

_It has been some time, but I have received no further communication from you, and am beginning to worry. Frightening events have occurred, events you must be made aware of. As predicted, the Knights Radiant have fallen without Honour to guide them. Cultivation has hidden somewhere on Roshar, and none of our agents can discern her location. But the more horrifying thing is that Ruin is free. It is only a matter of time before he overcomes the last vestiges of Preservation’s power on Scadrial and finally destroys that world. I am heading there now to do what I can. That’s on top of the rumours coming from Nalthis of Endowment resurrecting the dead. If you receive this, reply immediately. _

_If, as Hoid fears, this letter has perhaps fallen into the hands of another, to you, I say this: Be careful of what you seek. The cosmere is a vast and dangerous place for the ill-informed. If you have killed my friend, know that we have long memories, and are not quick to forgive._

_Khriss.”_

* * *

Ginny bounced on her tiptoes, desperately trying – and failing – to control her breathing. Right outside those tent flaps, a Dragon was waiting for her. A fucking _DRAGON_. And she had to fight it. 

She had to fight a dragon, and the only people who didn’t want her to fail and die painfully in the process were Bill, Charlie, Fred and George, Harry, Gabrielle, and Daphne. Ron would be positively thrilled if she disappeared, her father’s life would be made a whole lot easier, and her mother would no longer have to pretend that she wasn’t terrified at the sight of her daughter. And the students? They would be thrilled to know that Ginny Weasley, dark witch, was finally dead. She also imagined they would be ecstatic to learn that she had failed the first of Harry’s supposed ‘tests’. 

“I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I am going to be barbequed!” She muttered, teeth chattering. Beyond the tent walls, Fleur’s dragon roared as it tried to devour her.

“Ginny. You _can _do this! We’ve been training with Harry and Makani! And we’ve been so good! We can blow up whole boulders now!” Ember exclaimed. Bouncing excitedly on a nearby table in sync with Ginny’s own nervous springs.

Ember had discovered, or perhaps just remembered, a great love of making things explode. Or setting things on fire. Or melting them. Or incinerating them. Anything that involved wanton destruction really.

**“AND NOW. OUR FINAL CHAMPION! REPRESENTING HOGWARTS, GINNY WEASLEY!”**

Ginny was rather proud of herself for gathering enough courage to actually step out of the tent flap. Ember drifted beside her head, rubbing her hands together, eyes and hair alight.

The arena was a mass of rocky outcroppings and piles of rubble, offering numerous places she could hide from torrents of flame, or fall and break her neck. But the giant black scaled Dragon nesting in the centre of the arena was unmissable. It fixed one menacing black eye one Ginny but otherwise remained still.

_I am so going to die._

And then, with perfect clarity, a voice that didn’t belong to her echoed softly through her mind.

_RELAX, DAUGHTER OF IMAGINATION. TRUST IN YOUR DREAMS. THEY HAVE POWER. USE IT._

A rush of serenity washed over her, and Ginny was finally able to take the deep breath she needed. 

_Well. If I’m going to die. I may as well die proving everyone wrong. _

That thought was all her own.

Ginny did not glance towards the stands. She knew what she would see. Or rather, who she wouldn’t. So, she advanced towards the dragon and drew her wand. She wouldn’t need it. Not for the magic Harry had drilled into her. But Dumbledore and the others couldn’t know about her. Therefore, at least looking like she was using her wand was a necessity. Using her right hand, she pointed the shaft of wood at the giant beast, which snorted at her suspiciously as she neared it. And with her left hand, she clenched her fist.

Focus, Ginny. It’s all about focus.

“Ready Ember?” She whispered.

“Ready!”

Then, with all her mind, she reached out to the Fusion Force, and with the softest of tugs, reversed the pressure of gravity on the dragon. The giant creature resisted, its mass still attempting to pull it towards the Earth below, but the spiritual pull was too great, and slowly, screeching all the way, the dragon was jerked up into the air. Away from its nest. Sweat beading across her brow, Ginny bolted at top speed towards the nest. Already she could feel the link beginning to weaken, degrading as the spectators watched in disbelief as a ‘little girl’ lifted a full-grown Hungarian Horntail in the air with seemingly no effort.

**“It’s incredible!”**

_It’s imagination._

“Woohoo!!!!!” Ember squealed, spinning in the air as Ginny grabbed the egg and began to race back to the tent. She made it halfway before the magic gave out, and the dragon was released. It crashed to the ground, and cried out in rage, before beating its wings rapidly and charging towards her.

**“It looks like Miss Weasley has made it mad!”**

In the stands at that moment, Harry was trying to come to terms with the fact that, apparently, in the wizarding world, entertainment was akin to Ancient Rome. Except these people threw children to the lions. He was about this close to getting up and murdering everyone. But Ginny didn’t know any of that. She was too busy bolting for the exit.

But she couldn’t reach it in time. A jet of blistering heat surged towards her, the stench of ash heavy in the air.

“Protego!” The flames washed around her shield charm, but the heat still blistered her skin. Ember was brandishing her battle axe, not that it did them any good.

_“Remember Ginny,” _Harry’s lessons echoed from her memory, _“We don’t know what is going to be in that arena. But it doesn’t matter. When in doubt, just blast the shit out of things.”_

She thrust her free hand towards the dragon, unthinking, and a bolt of lightning lanced from her fingertips. It cracked against the monster’s scales, and it screamed in agony. Three tears in split asunder in its wings as the current charged through it. Ginny didn’t stay to watch. She and Ember ran for the tent flap, and the second they passed beneath the canvas, Ginny collapsed to the floor, and wretched. 

No teacher was there to meet her. Even Madame Pomfrey hadn’t come to make sure she was alright. She was alone. No one cared. She risked her _life! _For a game! And no-one cared! She couldn’t even hear any cheers from outside. Only the pained cries from the dragon, and the sounds of curses splashing against its hide. 

Ginny remained on her knees, wheezing, until arms wrapped around her, and a voice pierced the cloud of fog surrounding her. 

“Ginny?” Bill said, shaking her shoulder.

“Don’t pressure her. She’ll come back,” Gabrielle assured him, and Ginny leaned further into the Veela girl’s shoulder.

“The mighty conqueror!” Fred and George exclaimed from somewhere beyond her vision. And in Gabrielle’s arms she stayed, clinging desperately to the knowledge that these people, in this room, did care, even if no-one else did. She had to keep going. For them. For herself. 

And so they remained, until the stadium dissolved into screams.

* * *

Harry was furious. As soon as Ginny made it clear of the arena, he was on his feet, storming towards the judge’s box – towards Dumbledore. He very much intended to give the old man a piece of his fucking mind. Or, if that didn’t work, a kick up the fucking ass. 

_Dragons! _Dragons were fucking real. And, apparently, throwing children into arenas with them to die was an acceptable past time.

To say Harry was mad would be the biggest understatement of the century. As far as he was concerned at least.

However, as entertaining as Harry punching the headmaster upside would have been; unfortunately, it was not to be.

Harry was in the quarter of the stands straight to the right of the judges, when a dozen figures, dressed in black capes and silver masks, appeared from thin air all around him – the sharp _‘cracks!’ _of Apparation announcing them.

The spectators surrounding Harry instantly screamed in terror. Those adjacent to him turned to see what the fuss was about, and then they too began panicking and attempting to flee. That was all it took for the whole stadium to begin crying out in horror, screams of “Death Eaters!” echoing through the air.

“Fabulous,” Harry drawled, rolling up his sleeves to expose his bare forearms as the men drew their wands. (Because, in Harry’s mind, women deserved a great deal of respect for all the shit they had to put up with, and as such he instantly assumed that when someone did something stupid, it was a man’s fault.)

“My day was already turning out really _shit_, and now I have to deal with you fuckwits as well.” Two of the emo/goth-wannabees set the stands on fire, adding to the chaos.

“Harry Potter,” said the leader, a figure with long platinum blonde hair poking out of his collar, “The Boy-Who-Lived…” Harry, sensing an incoming monologue, blasted the man with lightning. He flew backwards with a squawk that was about as intimidating as a mouse in a trap, slammed against a wooden balustrade and collapsed to the floor, smoke billowing from his cloak.

“Anyone else feeling the urge to give a big villain speech?” He asked as one of the wooden towers adorning the stands collapsed in on itself.

“Insolent brat!” 

A dozen spells lit the air, and Harry surrounded himself in a cocoon of Division Force. The spells were absorbed harmlessly, and Harry dropped the shield, silently enjoying the gestures of pure shock his opponents demonstrated.

“My turn.” Harry dashed forward using the Strength Force. He grabbed one Death Eater, and decreased gravity’s hold on him, making the man as light as a feather, but not light enough to fly away. Then, Harry grabbed his leg and used him as a cricket bat, smashing him headfirst into the man beside him. Harry flipped into the air, sailing over a convulsing red curse, before slamming back down to the ground, splintering the wooden flooring. The air was full of the sounds of Apparation now, and he could hear Dumbledore’s voice chanting something from not too far away.

Harry flicked his left hand, and a wall of flames bent out of their path, enveloping two men in heat and char. With his right, he pulled a piece of the splintered flooring up into his hand, moulding it into the shape of a knife, before flinging it at another man. A spell hit him in the back, but Harry shrugged it off. 

“Avada Kedavra!” the leader – the one Harry had blasted earlier – advanced out of the smoke, and a green curse leapt from his wand, heading straight for him. 

Harry didn’t think. He spun towards the spell and caught it. The spell condensed into a ball of green energy held inches from his palm with the Fusion Force. The Death Eaters all stopped short.

“Perhaps this will teach you a lesson,” Harry said, eyeing them all one by one, “Don’t piss me off.” He reversed the spells trajectory, and it lanced back towards its caster, striking him directly in the heart. He collapsed like a puppet on a string. All the other Death Eaters disapparated in panic.

“Harry!” Mak exclaimed, zipping out of the smoke. “The Dragons!”

Harry’s stomach seized, and he groaned.

“Fuck.” 

Bolting through the flames, Harry ran for the centre of the arena and jumped the balustrade. He landed in the centre of the rocky outcrop and stopped to take in the situation. The entire stadium was on fire now, and it looked like most of the people had escaped. He could no longer see or hear Dumbledore. The roar of the flames was deafening, but here in the centre of the arena, it wasn’t enough to block out the cry of the dragon, which he hadn’t been able to hear from the stands. The Hungarian Horntail was prowling around its nest, flames leaping from its jowls at something Harry couldn’t see. 

“The handlers!” Mak gasped. Harry couldn’t risk flying. He might get eaten, or the smoke would suffocate him. The ground would have to do. Fortunately, he could still decrease his gravity to make the trip easier. He reached the cliff edge where Ginny’s brother Charlie and three other dragon-tamers were hunkered down from the flames in record time. 

“Who the hell are you!?” One of them announced. Harry ignored him, jumping over their heads and climbing to the top of the small bluff. Then he summoned the biggest shield of Division he’d ever created before, just in time to absorb a full blast of flame from the dragon.

“GO!” Harry screamed as his feet began to slide backwards. Blue smoke began to dissipate from his body, and Mak became a pulsing blue light, flashing around him in an intricate dance.

“How…”

“I SAID, GO!!!” The three tamers finally jolted to their senses, but instead of running _away_, they ran _for_ the nest. The eggs. They were going after the eggs. Great. Just great. Harry’s shield wavered, and he shot backwards, his clothes catching fire. He jerked to a stop in the air and immediately regretted it as his lungs choked with smoke, and the reek of sulphur filled into his nose. The dragon charged at him, and Harry dropped to the ground, narrowly avoiding the beast’s massive teeth.

Biting his lip and rolling along the stone in a desperate attempt to put out the fire clinging to him, he slammed his fist on the rock. Dozens of spikes shot up from the earth, colliding with the dragon’s undercarriage. And all of them shattered. Okay. So, we’re talking Smaug level defence here. And Harry did not have anything remotely like Bard’s lucky black arrow handy.

Ignoring the blistering heat, Harry rose up on shaky feet, catching a glimpse of the dragon keepers running for an exit with the eggs in hand. Then his eyes shifted upwards. The blaze was billowing towards the sky, creating a tornado of smoke and ash and flame, beyond which Harry could just see dark clouds through the haze. On his upper left, the dragon continued to search for him, the ash and soot impeding its sight and smell as much as Harry’s. And then he had an idea.

Taking a deep breath, Harry braced his legs, and shot up into the sky, Mak continuing her dance. The dragon caught sight of him and lurched around, flame licking its jaws. But Harry continued. Up higher and higher. Through the eye of the storm and out into the open air. He took one long shattering breath, raised his hands to the sky, closed his eyes, and screamed.

The clouds whipped into a frenzy, convulsing rapidly in on themselves. And then came the rain. Torrents of it, pouring down on the stadium in sheets. The dragon shot up out of the smoke, and a dozen bolts of lightning fell from the storm, striking it all across its body. The flames began to die down, and the dragon fell to the Earth; alive or dead, he wasn’t sure. And the storm continued its downpour until Harry could hold it no more, and he slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

Ginny, Gabrielle, Fred, George and Bill stood on the grounds outside the stadium with the rest of the student body and around half the spectators – the rest having fled already. The whole structure was alight, smoke and fire rising up into the air like a reverse tornado. The sound of it was deafening, and worst of all, they were sure they could still hear the Horntail inside, and no one had seen Charlie or Harry. Dumbledore was not far from them with Barty Crouch, Ludo Bagman, Madame Maxine, Igor Karkaroff and the other two champions – Fleur and Krum.

“We attempted a storm enchantment,” Dumbledore was saying, “but the flames grew too fast, and I deemed it smarter to ensure all the children escaped…”

Another tower collapsed inwards, then the side exit of the arena blasted open, and three figures raced out.

“Charlie!” Bill shouted, rushing towards them.

“Bill! The kid! Harry, he’s still inside. He saved our fucking lives!”

“Still inside!” Dumbledore exclaimed, also meeting them. Another explosion rocked the arena, and everyone turned back to the structure in time to see a figure wreathed in blue light shoot out from the eye of the tornado. 

“Holy Merlin,” Gabrielle breathed. The figure, _Harry_, threw his arms up in the air, and then the overcast clouds began to _boil_. They churned and writhed, then torrents of rain began to sleet down across the entire castle. Ginny and the others were soaked in an instant, but none of them cared. All they could do was stare in awe. The Horntail followed Harry into the air, and a dozen bolts of lightning struck it down. Charlie winced in pain as it fell. Then the rain eased, though it didn’t vanish completely, and the fire surrounding the arena had come under control.

And then the light vanished, and he fell from the sky.

“Harry!” Ginny screamed, before bolting towards the entrance Charlie had just left.

“Ginny! You can’t go in there!” Bill yelled, but Ginny was already charging through the debris lined corridor, Gabrielle and the twins not far behind. She pushed her way back into the rocky pit and choked on the ash thick air, but it didn’t stop her from going forward, tripping and stumbling on the loose stone as she made her way towards the heart. She climbed a cliffside, using the Strength Force to aid her, and pulled herself up onto the shelf with the nest. Above her, drifting towards the ground was Harry. Mak, full-sized, was trying desperately to hold him up, but she was too insubstantial to do anything but slow his descent. 

“Help!” She screamed. Ginny glanced to Ember, but her own faerie was already gliding upwards. Ginny took a deep breath and called the Fusion Force into her veins. Then, just as Harry had carried her that day in Hogsmeade, she flew up into the air. It was the first time she ever flew on her own, and while a part of her couldn’t help but revel in the glory of it, the far greater part of her consciousness was focussed on Harry. 

Her flight was jerky and unrefined, but it was enough. She reached Mak and took the load from her misty hands. The faerie instantly sagged in relief, reducing back to her normal size, and Ginny lowered herself back to the ground. She sprained her ankle on the landing.

She lay Harry down on the ground, then Gabrielle was climbing up the cliffside with the twins. She skidded to a halt and hit the ground hard on her knees, already waving her wand over his body and chanting in Latin.

“Dangerous levels of smoke inhalation, spell damage to his back, burns to his arms, legs and upper chest…” the Veela girl muttered, before breathing a sigh of relief.

“No spinal or major organ damage, but he needs the hospital wing, quickly.” Fred and George picked up Harry’s body between them and carried the unconscious boy to the edge of the plateau. At the same time, Gabrielle used a respiration spell to flush the smoke and bad-air from his system, muttering the whole time about carbon-monoxide. Bill, Charlie and Dumbledore’s party met them at the base of the cliff, and Fred and George levitated Harry and girls back down. Then, together, they fled the ruined arena and returned to the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating Schedule:
> 
> Harry Potter and the Shards of Heaven - Every two weeks on Sunday afternoons American Eastern Time starting February 16th (Monday mornings Australian Eastern Time starting February 17th)
> 
> New Content - Alternating weeks with Shards. First piece - A Light in the Darkness Part 2 - release date: February 23rd
> 
> Monthly Gemini Curse Oneshot - First Sunday afternoon US of every month. March 1st: President Bartlet and the Window.
> 
> Harry Potter and the Blessing of the Phoenix - Coming Soon...
> 
> Its great to be back, and be sure to review everybody!


	16. Chapter 16

# Chapter 16:

_“Sixteen Shards. Sixteen gods spread across this… cosmere. Based on the letter, the notes in her journal, and Gellert’s own recorded observations from his torture sessions, this is what I have learned. I believe I can confidently identify at least eleven. Imagination and Equality, one alive, one dead, both here on Earth. How a god can die, I do not yet understand. Is it that the mind dies, but the power remains? For surely if Equality had died as the notes claim, then the Magical Art associated with her, Enchantment, would have ceased functioning too?”_

_From Albus Dumbledore’s Notes; 20th Century, Earth.'_

* * *

When Harry woke up, there was no shackle on his arm. He rose wearily, observing for any sign of Dumbledore, but the old man seemed to be absent. Mak condensed from silver-blue smoke on the bed beside him.

“We’ve been moved somewhere. I don’t think we’re in Hogwarts anymore.” 

They were certainly not in the Hospital Wing. In fact, the room reminded him of ordinary human hospitals. White walls, beeping machines, white sheets, a window on the far side, drawn closed, and… yep, a hospital gown.

Hesitantly, Harry slipped out of bed and pulled open the curtains… revealing ordinary human buildings. It was night, so the streets were dark, but the five-floor townhouses looked just like ones he could find in Ealing or Wembley.

The door slammed opened with a soft ‘click’. Harry spun around, a lightning bolt charging along his forearm. His visitor was a tall man with blonde hair and blue eyes. He wore fancy looking black wizard robes, with a silver pin at the collar in the shape of a set of scales. His chin was so perfectly straight you’d think it had been carved.

“Mr Potter. You’re awake.” His voice was gravelly and brisk. 

“Who are you?”

“My name is Anattas Greengrass. My daughter Daphne contacted you with my request to represent your interests in the trial of Sirius Black, or any other legal areas you might yourself facing conflict in.” Spoken like a true lawyer.

Harry let the electricity slip away as Mak nodded softly to him. The man was telling the truth.

“Nice to finally meet you, Mr Greengrass.” Harry said, offering the man his hand, which he shook firmly. “I take it this is some sort of Wizarding hospital?”

“Indeed,” Greengrass said, stepping up to the window beside Harry, “St Mungo’s they call it.”

Harry took a deep breath and turned back to the window.

“Do I have you to thank for my lack of confinement?” he asked.

Greengrass smirked. “Indeed. My daughter, and Miss Weasley, appraised me of the situation, and I’ve taken the liberty of filing an injunction against the Headmaster and contacting Director Bones of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Amelia deemed the Headmaster’s confinement of you unlawful, hence the absence of the chain on your wrist. Dumbledore hasn’t answered any of my Owls, but I plan to catch him in person after Black’s trial tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t thank me yet, though. Dumbledore will have the injunction vanished before it even hits anyone’s desk. The man is nothing if not meticulous.”

Harry snorted in agreement. 

“I’m here, firstly to advise you as your lawyer not to walk out the front door, as there are about a hundred reporters from across the globe camped in the lobby.” Harry groaned, banging his head against the glass window. “Secondly, to give you this.” He pulled a rolled-up newspaper from within his robes and handed it to Harry, who unrolled it. Mak landed on the parchment and giggled softly at the headline article.

_ Harry Potter: The Most Powerful Wizard in the World? _

_ By Rita Skeeter _

Below it was a shot of Harry and Mak, summoning the storm.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Harry muttered, before continuing to read.

_The photo above was taken last night at the first task of the Tri-wizard Tournament, showcasing the young hero Harry Potter _literally_ summoning a storm to combat the fiery inferno that engulfed the stadium._

_There remains no definitive news on just how the blaze was started. Still, it doesn’t take a mind like Professor Dumbledore’s to determine the most likely scenario: that, in the chaos of the attack, a Dragon got loose and set the arena afire. What is clear, however, is that the legendary Headmaster of Hogwarts school attempted a spell to control the flames just as Mr Potter did, but _failed._ I heard the admission from Professor Dumbledore’s own mouth that he, “attempted a storm enchantment, but the flames grew too fast…” to control. And yet, Harry Potter succeeded where the Headmaster failed. Does this mean that Harry is, in fact, more powerful than a wizard widely considered the most adept sorcerer since the days of Merlin?_

_This comes on top of the shocking news I have managed to glean from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Harry was actually being kept restrained and at Hogwarts against his will by Professor Dumbledore! Such claims seem preposterous, but Aurors rarely lie. _

_Harry has already proved his magical prowess since his return to the Wizarding World, demonstrating his combat abilities by subduing ex-Auror Sirius Black without a wand, then uncovering the man’s innocence and unlawful incarceration. He also has some power over other magical beings, as he has not one but two Veela hanging on his every word, is apparently friends with Hogwarts half-giant groundskeeper Hagrid and can summon angels to his side at will. If Harry can do all these things now as a teenager, imagine what he might be capable of when he is an adult?! _

_This reporter will undoubtedly be watching closely as the Saga of Harry Potter continues to unfold._

“Well,” Harry said, crumpling the paper in his hands, “At this rate, I’m going to be considered the wizard-messiah before Christmas.” This was just getting ridiculous now. _The Saga of Harry Potter._ Bah!

“There are worse things to be known as,” Greengrass noted, clearly trying to contain his humour at Harry’s predicament.

“I want to go back to being homeless. It was so much easier,” he muttered. Then he turned to Greengrass, a dark look in his eye. “I need paper, a pen, and an owl. Now that the bloody shackle is off, I can finally send word to my friends.”

* * *

Daphne stood in an elegant silver dress with her hair done in an intricate bun outside the Courtroom with Ginny Weasley – not exactly something she ever thought she’d be doing. Like, at all.

“What’s taking so long?” the Gryffindor asked, wringing her hands together behind her back. She wore her school robes. They were apparently the only nice clothes she owned – though they looked newly purchased instead of the threadbare drab she’d worn before Harry had come to Hogwarts.

Daphne shrugged. “Could be a bunch of things. Trials are fickle things.” Ginny looked up at Daphne – the red-head was a good foot shorter than she was – her brows knitted tightly together. 

“Yes, because the legal system is somewhere you want as much ambiguity as possible.”

“Hey, I don’t make the rules, I just live by them. You’re just lucky my Dad is a good lawyer, or you probably would have gotten yourself thrown in Azkaban.” Ginny winced, and Daphne immediately regretted her words. Ginny’s testimony had, realistically, been precisely the type of recount a teenager could be expected to give. Focussed more on the emotional side of the event than the logic. There was no way around it, though. Ginny was a first witness to Harry’s interrogation of Black and exposure of Pettigrew (Daphne was too, but no one knew that except Harry, Gabrielle, the Weasley twins, and Ginny herself). It had taken all of her father’s exceptional talent to keep the prosecution from probing into her checked past. 

Finally, after hours of waiting, the black tiled door swung open, and Cornelius Fudge and Barty Crouch stormed through the door, and judging by the way their faces were contorted, she’d wager the result hadn’t gone in their favour.

She caught a glimpse of Black being led from the manacled interrogation chair by St Mungo’s nurses before Harry stepped out with her father, the door closing behind them.

“Well?” She didn’t like the way her father’s lips were pursed. 

“Not exactly what I was going for, but we won,” her father said.

“What do you mean?” Ginny asked, tugging on a lock of hair she’d been chewing before.

“Sirius has been acquitted of all charges, and compensation for his years in prison is going to be delivered to his personal Gringotts Vault on the ‘morrow,” Harry explained, running a hand through his hair. “He’s been reprimanded into the doctors care for now, until he’s fought all the effects of the Dementor exposure from his system. He would have dispersed it on his own apparently, but it would take time and be painful. With the Doc’s help, his mind should be relatively healed in the next month or so, and the Ministry is going to pay for all of it.”

“What I don’t get is why Lucius Malfoy sent his wife, instead of coming himself,” her father said, scratching his beard.

“He missed the whole thing?” Daphne asked aghast. He hadn’t been there when Ginny was being interrogated (the only time Daphne had been allowed in the room, as she was supposed to be the girl’s chaperone), but to not show up at all…

“My thinking exactly. And considering the fate of the Black estate is in play, he should at least have lobbied Fudge for access right then and there. As it stands, the fate of the funds will be settled once Sirius has his faculties back between him and Narcissa, Lucius wife and Sirius cousin. Sirius’ mother’s will states that the estate goes to Narcissa, but his father’s will says that is should go to the eldest son, which is Sirius.”

They remained in silence for a few moments, before Harry clapped his hands and slung his arm around Ginny’s shoulders.

“Come on. Ice-cream’s on me.”

* * *

Harry sat in his room, staring at the documents on his desk for what had to be the 100th time. He’d grabbed five pages from Dumbledore’s office that night, and now he wished beyond anything that he’d grabbed them all. 

If these notes were accurate – and Harry had no reason to think they’d be false – there were sixteen gods scattered across dozens of planets, and two of them were on Earth; one alive, one dead. One of the pages, as Harry had noted when he took them that night, was a map. In the centre was the inverted Europe. The continent itself was marked _‘The World Sea’. _Between it and Great Britain – which on the map was called _The Sea of Shadows –_ in the place normal maps would call the English Channel, was _the Valley_. The map had served as a jog for Mak’s memories, and she’d confirmed that the locations on the paper were accurate. Two arrows had been drawn, pointing to two different areas in the Sea of Shadows. The first, in the south, was marked _‘Imagination’s Perpendicularity. Location: The Vault of Dreams.’ _The second pointed at Scotland. _‘Equality’s Perpendicularity. Location: The Chamber of Secrets. WARNING: UNSTABLE-DO NOT USE!!’_

The Chamber of Secrets. The place where the shade of Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort, had taken Ginny. She had, reluctantly, described it to him. Dark, slimy, dank, waterlogged, covered in snake statues. And in the centre of the chamber, beneath a statue of Salazar Slytherin, was a pool of light. It made Harry feel sick just thinking about it. Ginny hadn’t said anything about what Voldemort had wanted with the pool, and Harry hadn’t asked.

The map was filled with more sections, some more detailed than others. Some corresponded to planets, others to objects, or, in the case of _‘The Dor,’_ apparently giant cosmic storms of magic.

Aliens. Dumbledore apparently had proof of _aliens. _Not only that, but this map indicated that one could use the Valley to travel between planets. Mak had even confirmed it long before they’d seen the map. She’d told him that the faeries were fleeing across the sea. He’d naively assumed that was a body of water, not _space_. 

Sixteen gods, and if the notes he’d stolen were to be believed, four of them were already dead. Including one of the gods on his own world. Equality. Equality was dead. He supposed that would explaina great deal. The axial tilt for one. The bizarreness of the blood prejudice in Wizard society as well. Even some of the problems in the non-Magic world could probably be connected back to that. He also didn’t like the fact that Odium, the supposed god of hate, had been the one to do it. The metaphor that presented made Harry want to be sick.

And Imagination? According to the notes, he’d turned a blind eye. Hiding away in this Vault of Dreams while the outside world went to hell.

But what scared Harry the most was the final part of the notes he’d taken.

_“I find myself working with the legendary Nicolas Flamel. He has apparently known about the cosmere for centuries, travelling it extensively. He has a plan, a plan I find myself agreeing with. If Odium or one of the Shards we do not know does come for this world, we will not let it fall, no matter what stands in our way.”_

What the fuck was this plan? What did Dumbledore and this Flamel guy intend to do if a fucking _god _showed up on Earth to kill them all? It had to be big. Scary big. And based on Harry’s interactions with the man so far, he had a powerful feeling he was not going to like this plan one bit. At least it cleared up Dumbledore’s words to him those months ago. _“I have spent a great deal of time researching powers such as yours Mr Potter, and you will find that you and your brethren across the universe all share a similar weakness.” _Aluminium must be a common weakness of the magic these gods created when they arrived on a planet. Dumbledore had known that because of Flamel. If it stopped Harry from using his powers – which came from Imagination – he couldn’t help wondering what it did to the people who got their powers from other gods; specifically, Odium and Ruin, whom to Harry’s mind sounded the most dangerous. Or perhaps it had an effect on the magic of Equality – Enchantment – as well? One he could use against Dumbledore. The next time he went to Gringotts, he might just ask the Goblins if they could stockpile some of the raw stuff for him. It wasn’t much, but having a knife made might not be a bad idea.

He turned back to the notes again and sighed.

_Equality is dead. Killed by Odium, aka Hatred. _He couldn’t stop repeating those two sentences in his head. Each time he thought about it, he felt his brain spin, and his heart squirm in his chest. It was just something that you really did not want to think about.

What did it have to do with the voice he’d heard the night the Dementors attacked? Could that have been the voice of a god? One of these ‘Shards’? It had sounded female, but Imagination was always referred to with a male pronoun. Equality had been a woman, apparently. Had she spoken to him? But how could she have talked to him if she was dead? Could gods see the future and send messages forward in time? If that was the case, what bloody chance did anyone even have? Or, and this was the thing he really didn’t want to consider, was there another god on Earth, one of the unknown ones? One that no one knew about. With Imagination hiding and Equality dead, Earth was clearly vulnerable to these other gods. Had one already arrived and begun sowing discord? Or was it a benevolent deity that wanted to help them?

He couldn’t tell the others about this. He barely understood it himself, and they had enough on their plates as it was. Their mission was still the same – rescue the faeries. Doing that would hopefully disrupt whatever plan Dumbledore and this Flamel guy had.

It made his head throb something terrible. He was a teenager for crying out loud. He shouldn’t have to deal with magical gods and potential alien invasions. _Who else is going to do it? _That was the voice of his annoying logical side. He really hated that voice.

Harry gritted his teeth, opened his drawer, and shoved the papers inside. There was nothing to do about it now. Now, he just needed to get some sleep.

* * *

Albus sat in his office, staring at the items on his desk. The Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone and the Philosopher’s Stone. Opposite him sat a tall man with dark hair, greying at the temples. He had a hard face, and his body was lean like one who was used to travel.

“Five Albus. We had five out of seven splinters. One more would have gotten us inside the Vault of Dreams. Now, not only are there two wild splinters out there, but you lost two of the five we had!” Albus flinched as if struck. He deserved that.

Flamel stood up, kicking over his chair, and began to pace.

“Two splinters in the past twenty years, whereas, before, they only broke off in intervals of a few centuries… The shattering is speeding up! We must get the missing pieces back! Our plan will only work if we have them all. If even one splinter is missing, the process will only start again. Imagination’s strength must be waning. If it fails completely, and Equality is allowed to shatter permanently, we all lose our powers.”

“I have a plan. The boy appears to be intelligent. If we explain the situation to him, he may agree to help us willingly. The fate of the world is at stake!” Flamel turned his eyes back on Dumbledore. As always, Albus was slightly in awe of the other man. He was hundreds of years old, thanks to the faerie he’d managed to imprison, creating the first and only Philosopher’s Stone. There was a power about him. Colours seemed to warp around his person, becoming more vibrant in his presence. As the man stared at him, Albus couldn’t help his gaze drifting to the man’s belt. Three glass vials hung there, each filled with some solution Albus didn’t know. Beside them was a dagger made of aluminium in a black sheath. This weapon Albus did know the purpose of, and he was undeniably and understandably terrified of it.

“And if the boy refuses?”

“We use the dagger and take the faerie ourselves.”

“For Equality. For Imagination. For Gaea and Ourans.”

“For the Greater Good.”


	17. Chapter 17

# Chapter 17:

_ “Preservation and Ruin are the next two, and according to the mystery woman’s notes, these two powers have been intertwined for centuries. They built a planet – Scadrial – together, then something happened that isn’t clear, and now they are waring over it. And it seems that Ruin – a god of destruction and entropy – is winning.”_

_From Albus Dumbledore’s Notes; 20th Century, Earth._

* * *

Harry saw through ‘Professor’ Slughorn’s charade within five minutes of being in the man’s company. That being said, and this was the kicker, Harry had decided he didn’t care if the man was only interested in helping him because of his name. Everyone wanted to use him for some reason or another at this point, so Harry couldn’t bring himself to feel anger or annoyance at the grey-haired, pot-bellied Potions Master. The man was a million times better than Snape had been, and he had a connection to Harry’s mother. Apparently – and Harry had independently checked to prove Slughorn’s claims – Lily Evans had been one of his star students.

So, Harry put effort into his classes with the man, and they immediately began paying dividends. Harry was a quick learner, and Potions was not all that different from the rudimentary medicines Nylah created in her workshop in the Bunker. Though the ingredients were undoubtedly more _exotic_. With Slughorn’s private tutoring, Harry flew through first- and second-year potions – most of this was theory, rather than actual potion-making. By the time the Winter holidays rolled around, he was making headway on learning the more intricate third-year concoctions. Ginny, Daphne, Fred and George were incredibly jealous of him. The twins said they’d taught themselves potions practically on their own to aid in their goal of starting up a joke shop and judging by the variety and ingenuity of their products, Harry thought they had a fair shot at succeeding. He was actually considering giving them some of his seemingly endless piles of money, his only hiccup being how to get the twins to accept the funds.

Mak _really _liked Slughorn. She was fascinated by him for some reason Harry didn’t understand, and she would frequently ignore him to fly around Slughorn, watching him as he guided Harry through the best potion-making techniques.

So it was that Harry found himself leaving Slughorn’s private potions lab on the ground floor after his final lesson before the Christmas holidays, walking beside the ex-teacher as they made their way to the Great Hall. Slughorn often did this, eating with Harry in the Hall. It was obviously a tactic, both to ensure he was seen with Harry, and to make himself available to any student who was brave enough to come up to him. Harry actually couldn’t fault him on this, as Slughorn genuinely seemed to enjoy helping students accelerate themselves and make connections outside the school – so long as he got some recognition out of it of course. Harry himself thought that, if the Professor wanted to help the students, he was more than welcome to. It was more than most of the Hogwarts teachers did.

“Oh come on Harry, you must have lines of women lined up to be your date to the Ball,” Slughorn said as they walked amidst a throng of students, “I remember your father, oh it must have been in his fifth year, had people asking him to take them to my annual Christmas Party almost every day! But he turned them all down, following your mother around like a lost puppy, going out of his way to help her with every menial task he could think off. I must admit, from an academic point of view, of course, that it was amusing to watch. Your mother, she must have turned him down more times than I can count!”

Harry laughed at that. If there was anything Slughorn was good for, it was stories of his parents. In fact, it was Slughorn who had revealed that his mother had actually been close to _Snape_ of all people during school. Harry had a feeling he understood the man’s hatred of him a little more now.

“Well, maybe not _lines_ of people,” Harry replied, “But there certainly have been a fair few.”

And by a few, he meant _at least_ ten a day. The Ball had only been announced three fucking days ago!

“I had thought as much. And you turned them all down?” Mak flew around Slughorn’s head, giggling uncontrollably. She found the whole thing very amusing. Harry certainly did not.

“Yes,” he said, using all his willpower not to blush. Some of them had been very extravagant. A first-year Hufflepuff named Emma had sung him a poem, Demelza Robbins had actually created a collage for him, and Cho Chang had given him a double-decker box of very expensive Wizarding chocolate – laced with love potion. Mak, in revenge, had tricked the girl into eating one of her own chocolates, and now, according to Harry’s groupies from Ravenclaw house, she spent hours staring at herself in the mirror and sighing.

“Ohho ho!! Do you have your eye on someone then?” _Blast!_ He must have given himself away somehow. What had… Oh, bloody hell. His feet had started smouldering in his shoes. He really needed to stop doing that, he was going through innersoles at an alarming rate.

“Ah! There is a girl. Tell me, is it, Miss Greengrass? I know her father, and he is quite the adept lawyer, though I don’t need to tell you that. Perhaps Miss Delacour? Or even Miss…” He trailed off as they reached the Great Hall. Sitting at the high table beside Dumbledore, was someone Harry had never seen before. He was a tall man with a hard, square face. He wasn’t overly muscled, but his frame bespoke high fitness. The only indication of his age was the grey hair that dominated his temples and sideburns.

But what held Harry entranced was that the second he stepped into the room, the man locked eyes with him. Harry stopped dead in the doorway, eyes narrowed. This person did not dress like a wizard. He wore black clothing with an odd symbol Harry didn’t recognise emblazoned across the breast in white. A cloak fell around his shoulders that appeared to be a blend of both black and silver. Resting by his chair was a giant curved sword that looked like it was made of glass – easily longer than Harry was tall.

Mak shrieked, before bursting to mist and vanishing.

“Is that… it can’t be Nicolas Flamel!” Slughorn breathed. Then he grabbed Harry by the shoulder and ushered them both forward through the centre aisle. The Hall was just as noisy as it always was, but now that he was looking, he could tell that almost all the discussion in the room focussed on the mystery man.

Flamel. Dumbledore’s secret partner. _Oh fuck._

“Nicolas!” Slughorn exclaimed, throwing the arm that wasn’t holding Harry out wide.

“Horace! Good to see you, my man.” Flamel rose from his seat and rounded the table. Slughorn finally let go of Harry to shake the man’s hand. As he came close, the colours around Harry and Slughorn seemed to become _richer_ somehow. More vibrant. If he didn’t know that Magic existed, he would have thought he was imagining it. But no. There was a noticeable difference between the flagstones around them and the rest of the Hall.

Harry stared at the man incredulously, trying desperately to get his brain into gear. What the _fuck_ was this guy?

“And this must be _the _Harry Potter I’ve heard so much about.” Flamel turned to Harry, offering his hand. The gesture turned Harry’s eyes to the man’s belt. Three glass vials hung there, each filled with some sort of golden-brown solution with flakes of solid pieces floating within. Sheathed beside them was a silver dagger in a black sheath.

Harry’s stomach threatened to upend everything inside it on the floor. He did not take Flamel’s hand.

“You have me at a disadvantage, sir,” he managed to say, keeping his words as even as he could, “for I do not know who you are.”

“Ha!” Flamel exclaimed, taking back his hand and slapping Slughorn over the shoulder.

“Let me introduce myself then. I am Nicolas Flamel, the oldest man on Earth, creator of the Philosophers Stone and inventor of the Pact of Truth.” Harry felt as though a sledgehammer had just been swung into his head. _The Pact of Truth_. He _invented_ it?! Then that meant… oh fuck, fuck, fuck _fuck._

“Is that a suitable introduction Mr Potter? Or does your faerie require a more in-depth tale? I warn you, it is a long one. Comes with being 700 years old, I’m afraid.”

The only thing that stopped Harry from putting a lightning bolt through the man’s chest right then and there was that he was sure if he tried, Flamel would have him dead before the energy left his fingers. He wore a smile on his face that seemed to all the world completely authentic, and Harry knew, deep in his bones, that nothing he’d faced had prepared him for whatever this man was.

So, for the first time since he was seven, he ran like a coward.

“That’s… um… quite the resume, sir. I’d love to speak with you more, but I’ve got to go and… uh… meet with some people to… arrange… a… uh, a murder.” Then he turned on his heel and strode back the way he’d come.

“Send my regards to the soon to be corpse!” He called after him. Harry all but ran from the Hall. Then, once he was certain he was out of ear-shot, he jumped into the sky, and flew straight up to Gryffindor Tower, locking himself in his room. Only then did Mak reappear, curled in a ball, body trembling, weeping.

* * *

Gabrielle was apparently ‘not allowed’ within sight of her elder sister. She assumed – she hadn’t actually spoken to Fleur since they’d argued in the Great Hall – that it was because of all the rumours surrounding Harry having spurned her for Gabrielle instead. Fleur’s friends appeared to be making a game of blocking off places in the Beauxbatons carriage off from her at the exact times they knew she’d be there. Their favourite haunt was the girl’s bathroom, and Gabrielle had now been forced to go an entire _week_ without a decent shower.

It was petty and cruel and stupid. Which was precisely what she had expected would happen.

The rest of Beauxbatons had mixed opinions on Gabrielle’s relationship with one Harry Potter. Her friends all supported her, thankfully, and most of the younger years were just as enamoured by Harry as the Hogwarts kids were. The older kids were split. Some thought being Harry’s friend risked Fleur’s chances – they apparently didn’t trust her not to reveal Fleur’s plans to him, though when she questioned them on this, they did not have terribly good answers as to why this was important or relevant. Others thought it was against school spirit. The majority, however, simply didn’t care. If she wanted to be friends with Harry, good for her. Why should they give two shits? So long as she didn’t actually sabotage Fleur, she could do what she wanted. Madame Maxine had no opinion one way or another, and her father had actually sent a letter suggesting she try to _seduce_ him into the family. Well, she’d tried _that_ avenue, without very much success. Not that she particularly minded. She may not have inherited her mother’s ‘love sense’, but an idiot could see that Harry quite clearly fancied Ginny and that Ginny was utterly smitten with him in return. Harry had actually asked for her opinion on his plan to ask her to the Yule Ball, and while Gabrielle couldn’t help feeling a little bit jealous, mostly she was just happy for her friend – and she definitely considered Ginny a close friend by this point.

None of these factors were behind Gabrielle’s current sojourn to behind one of Hogwarts greenhouses though. No. She was here because, ever since she’d bonded with Vel, she’d begun having dreams. Strange dreams. Dreams of an unnatural place. A place she could swear she’d been too before. A dark cavern, a beam of light, slime on the floor, and a woman of fire.

She sat, head on her knees, staring at Vel as he followed a beetle scuttling across the cobblestones. He was very childlike and found it difficult to say more than a single word at a time. She found his innocence kind of refreshing actually, compared to everything else going on in her life right now. He reached out to touch the beetle, but his hand passed through it, and he pouted, before slumping down to the ground. Harry and Ginny said that Mak and Ember had been much the same in their first few months, only gaining proper brain-function after about a year of being together. They weren’t sure, however, if Vel’s lack of memory was related to his imprisonment or something to do with how he’d crossed from the Valley – the realm of the faerie.

She sighed, leaning back against the wall of the greenhouse.

There was something else she hadn’t told Harry, Ginny or the others. She was sure something was following her. She’d glimpsed it first in a dream. A purple light, in the form of a dark shadow. This thing was the only aspect of the dream she’d remembered perfectly. Whatever it was, it was intelligent, and after the first time, it had disappeared. She’d caught sight of it a few more times, twice more while sleeping, and then, that morning, she’d seen the creature while awake.

A creature, hidden in shadow, with a purple cast to it. She wasn’t ashamed to say she was scared of the thing. Why follow her? If it was some faerie creature, why not follow Harry around. He was making far more noise than she was after all.

Gabrielle shivered, then started taking deep breaths, calming herself. She needed to tell Harry about this. She had been so sure she was imagining things, hadn’t wanted to put more on his plate. Now she couldn’t ignore it. She shivered again. What would she even say? _Harry, I’m being followed by a purple thing hiding in shadows that I saw in a dream. No, I can’t prove it._

Merlin, it was hopeless. She should just ignore it.

“Gabrielle!” Gabrielle jolted back into her right mind as Ginny, with Ember gliding ahead of her, came running around the corner in a panic.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Pettigrew! He’s escaped.”

* * *

## Diagon Alley, London

Emily sat at Fortescue’s Ice-Cream Parlour, staring out at the incredulity of Diagon Alley for the eighth time in two weeks. She kept coming back here, despite how much the place _unnerved_ her, on the off chance she’d catch a glimpse of Harry, or hear something that could help him. _Magic._ _Magic was fucking real._ It made her feel sick. The complete and total _wrongness_ of what these witches and wizards could do. She’d spent the past month reading book after book after book about topics as bizarre as Transfiguration, Alchemy, Potions and Care of Magical Creatures. If this was a hoax, it was a brilliantly crafted one that thousands of people apparently bought into. But what had her confused was _why_ it felt wrong. Harry’s powers had never made her want to vomit like she did whenever one of the stupidly dressed people cast a spell with their wands. Why? Was it because of Mak? Was it because Emily was a… a _‘muggle?’_ (It went without saying that she found the term very offensive.) Was there another reason? Or was she just imagining it?

Emily – and by extension, the others who remained in the Bunker – knew a lot about the Wizarding World. But they were no closer to any way to save Harry. Or even finding him. They knew he was in some castle called Hogwarts. Oh, and he was like more famous than fucking Oprah in this world. Although, they couldn’t seem to decide whether he was wizard-superman or wizard-Jesus, so there was _that_ at least.

She held to his letter like a lifeline. “_Tell Emily that I’m sorry.”_ She would rescue him. They couldn’t send him any messages, and they’d received no news from him either. All they had, all _she_ had, to know he was okay were the Daily Prophet articles. This latest one displayed an image of Harry, flying above a tornado of fire, Mak dancing around him as a ribbon of light. Apparently, he’d fought a dragon. _A FUCKING DRAGON!!!!_

She ignored the sickening feeling that had begun to grow in her stomach, the nauseating, horrible, twisting fear that he hadn’t sent a message for a reason. He was rich. He was famous. Why would he want to remember the people from back when he could barely eat and had to sleep in ratty old sleeping bags on the floor. He lived in a castle now. He was a hero. Emily had always known he’d had it in him. It was the thing she loved the most about him. He wouldn’t abandon them, would he? But why _wouldn’t _he? They were nothing. Dregs on the edge of society. Wastes of space. Useless. He was right to want nothing to do with them. NO! She would not go down that road. She would find Harry. For better or for worse.

An elderly man slipped into the seat beside her, and she eeped in surprise, dropping her ice-cream as her hand jerked towards her coat pocket – where the gun she’d bought with Harry’s money rested in its holster. She would not be caught unawares again.

“Tell me young-miss,” the man said, sparkling blue eyes beaming down at her from a kindly face, “what has been bringing you here every days these last few weeks? Looking for someone perhaps?”

Emily shivered, hand tightening on her weapon. What she thought she’d actually be able to _do_ with it she wasn’t sure, but it was comforting to know it was there.

“What do you want?”

The old man sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“Child, if I had wanted to do anything to you, I could quite simply have turned you into a mouse, then carried you away, and no one would be any the wiser.” Emily’s heart began to thump loudly in her chest, and her free hand began to tremble.

“Relax, young-miss. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m simply, curious, as it were. My name is Ollivander, I own the shop just over there, and I couldn’t help but notice you on your frequent visits this past month.” Emily did not relax. Not in the slightest.

“Who are you looking for? Perhaps I can help you find them.”

“I’m looking for my friend. He was… _taken_… by your people. I don’t know how to find him,” she whispered, staring into those peaceful eyes, hoping, praying, that he might give her some answer. He didn’t seem threatening. In fact, he seemed quite nice. But Emily had lived on the street her whole life, and she knew full well that the people who appeared to be helpful, were the ones who could be the most dangerous.

“A close friend I see,” the man mused, stroking his chin, eyes thoughtful, “Well, if this young man was taken by _my_ people, I can think of only two places he could be. St Mungo’s Hospital if he was injured, or, the far more likely, Hogwarts School. Both places a young-lady of your nature would be very noticeable to the proper authorities.”

Emily remained rigid, scanning the man’s face for any clue to his nature. He sat there in the chair across from her for a good minute, saying nothing and gazing into the distance. Then, he snapped his fingers, and a smile appeared on his face. Emily immediately jerked back, pulling the gun free of its holster, though she didn’t draw it, wary of any magic the man might try. But she couldn’t see any immediate change, nor did she feel queasy.

He reached into his pocket, before drawing out a small red velvet sack.

“This,” he said, a soft smile touching his lips, “is a bag of Floo-powder. You can use it in a fireplace connected to the Floo-Network to transport yourself across the country, muggle or wizard alike. You see those fireplaces over there?” Ollivander pointed towards the entryway to the Alley, where, in a closed-off section, about a half dozen large-gateless fireplaces lined a wall. Emily had watched countless witches and wizards use the fires to appear or vanish but hadn’t been able to figure out how the things worked. She hadn’t been willing to go over to them, lest she be observed as an oddity, and outed as human, then subsequently mind-wiped. Undoubtedly her greatest fear. She’d lost count of how many nightmares she’d had since the attack on the Bunker.

“Step into a fireplace, say the name of the place you want to go, and throw some powder at your feet. Nice and easy.” She continued to stare at him, not answering.

“But you’ll still be caught inside Hogwarts… unless you go when the securities are down…” Ollivander’s smile grew wide indeed then, “Do you perhaps have any eveningwear young-miss?”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the Coronavirus Lockdown! We are Ghost and Miracle and we'll are thrilled to be your entertainment for the next fifteen minutes.

# Chapter 18:

* * *

_“If my analysis is correct (which in all fairness it may not be), Honour may also be dead (which presents a very frightening psychological argument). Who are the Knights Radiant? Or more accurately, who were they, and what caused their fall? Then there is Cultivation. This, to me, seems to be an odd name for a god. I can only assume that she (the association of a gender pronoun to each divinity is also curious) has power over the growth and evolution of things on this planet called Roshar.”_

_From Albus Dumbledore’s Notes; 20th Century, Earth._

* * *

Ginny stood on the edge of the Astronomy Tower, eyes closed, breathing the fresh air as the cold winter breeze brushed at her eyelashes and hair.

“Ready?” Harry whispered from his place beside her. She nodded softly, not opening her eyes. Harry took her hand and began to rise upwards. Ginny pooled her power within her and used the Fusion Force to decrease the force of Gravity binding her to the ground. Her feet lifted from the stone, and she followed Harry out into the open air.

She opened her eyes. The whole castle was open to her from here. Everything from Ravenclaw Tower to the Black Lake and Hagrid’s hut. Mak and Ember hovered on the winds beside them, smiles of glee on their faces.

“It’s gorgeous,” she said.

“You haven’t seen anything yet.” Harry released her hand and dropped sharply. He flipped in the air, so he was diving face downwards, then backflipped and came to a rest fifty metres below.

“Try it!”

“Are you insane?!”

“Trust yourself.” Ginny took a deep breath and, hesitantly, released her hold on the Fusion Force. Gravity instantly reasserted itself, and she plummeted down, wind whipping at her hair. She screamed, but did as Harry had demonstrated, pointing her feet towards the ground, and as Harry approached, she slowed to a stop – heart beating like a hammer in her chest.

“That was… exhilarating,” she breathed. Ember, who had grabbed onto Ginny’s hair as they descended, beamed.

“Again, again, again!”

“Well alright,” Harry said, grinning. “Keep up if you can!” He zoomed off, Mak dancing around him as a ribbon of light. Ginny braced her legs, then, pulling the Fusion Force into her veins, shot after him. They danced through the towers, and Ginny couldn’t remember a time in her life where she’d ever felt more free. With the wind in her hair, and the power to fly anywhere she chose… it was like a dream. The best dream she could imagine. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to play Quidditch the same way again.

Eventually, finally, they came to a stop near Gryffindor Tower and watched as the sun began to sink towards the horizon.

Then, out of nowhere, Harry grabbed her by the waist, pulling her into his body. And he kissed her.

Ginny _melted_ into his lips, bathing in the warmth of his hold. They stayed there together, absorbed in each other, until Ginny broke away, eyes heavy and breath raspy. She swayed slightly from all the blood rushing to her head and leaned against Harry’s forehead.

“Ginny,” Harry murmured, voice deep and hoarse, “Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?”

“Yes,” she breathed, then she was kissing him again. Above them, Mak and Ember danced together in the evening light.

* * *

Harry met Sirius Black properly for the first time on a winter’s day in Hogsmeade.

The shaggy black-haired man had cleaned up nice. The nice robes he wore hung far better off his admittedly still thin form, but he no longer appeared swallow and malnourished.

As Harry saw him, Black let out a booming laugh that was just so genuine that Harry couldn’t resist smiling in turn.

“Sirius Black. You, my friend, are looking much better than the last time I saw you.”

Harry, still grinning, offered his gloved hand to Sirius, who took the hand gladly.

“And I have you to thank for that. I can’t thank you enough, Harry. I… my mind was frayed by my time in Azkaban. It was like I was trying to live both in the past and present at once… I truly am sorry for attacking you and your friends.”

Harry waved off the man’s concern.

“I’ve spent my entire life around people who’ve suffered just as much as you have, though not in the same way. I’ve found that most people who are hurt, just need a person to extend their hand to them, to help pull them out of whatever hell they’ve been trapped in. I’m just happy I got to you before it was too late.”

“So am I, let me tell you,” Sirius said, clapping Harry on the back.

“I saw you that night,” he said, “Held you in my arms. I gave you to Hagrid, I thought you’d be safe with him, with Dumbledore, while I went after that scum Pettigrew. But instead, you ended up on the street. Starving and alone. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“And I won’t ask you too. The only person who can forgive you, Sirius, is yourself. But what I can tell you is that I did have people who cared for me. I wasn’t alone. In fact, since my seventh birthday, I’ve never been alone.” Harry glanced to Mak, who nodded, a soft, tranquil smile on her face. Then he turned back to Sirius, who was staring at Harry in confusion.

“Sirius Black, allow me to introduce to you the most important person in my life: Makani, Masella de Tastheria.” Mak became visible to Sirius, who stared at her, blinking a few times. Then he bowed to her.

“Well then Lady Makani, I believe I owe you a great deal. I don’t know if you can drink alcohol, but if you can my new tiny friend, I swear to buy you any and all varieties you desire for the rest of your days!” Mak giggled, and Harry just rolled his eyes. She turned to Harry and poked out her tongue.

“Oh, I like this one. He has perfect manners, unlike _you._ I demand to be called Lady Makani from now on.”

Harry facepalmed while Sirius and Mak laughed. Then Mak flew up to Sirius’s shoulder and sat down primly.

“I can’t drink your intoxicating beverages, _Mr_ Black,” she said haughtily, “however, I don’t suppose that offer can be extended to caramel, can it?”

* * *

## One and a half years ago,

Ginny grasped the woman’s hand and allowed her to lead them down into the cave. It was the first time the spirit with the fire in her hair had arrived before the gold spirit had. Immediately, she had begged Ginny to come inside the cave, speaking with a musical voice Ginny couldn’t help but be awed by. In that moment, Ginny had forgotten her fear and followed the fire-spirit into the darkness.

The cave was horrible. The walls were covered in mud and slime, and the floor was like clay. The only source of light she had as they spiralled down into the darkness was the spirit, glowing an ethereal red.

“Where are we going?” She asked softly.

“To the Perpendicularity. If I can get you there before _He_ catches us, I should be able to send you back. Stop all this horror, free you from its hold.”

“It? You know what’s doing this to me? What’s making me kill people?” Heart pounding, Ginny renewed her pace. Her disgust of this place was nothing compared to the guilt and hate she had for herself, unable to stop the killings. Hermione… She was going to be next. The genius girl had figured out what the monster was… had warned Ron and Ginny to carry mirrors around with them at all times. Now, Ginny _knew_ that the next time she unleashed the Basilisk from its prison – however, she was doing it – Hermione would die. If this spirit could free her… she’d do _anything_.

“That cursed Diary! If I ever get my hands on Tom Marvolo Riddle, I swear I’ll….” The spirit’s head shot up towards the ceiling, expression riddled with panic. Then she spun back to Ginny.

“Keep going! Don’t give up!” The gold spirit – the man with the white hair and the golden robes – appeared beside Ginny in the dark. The fire-spirit screamed in anguish, hands flying to her head. Then she vanished in a torrent of flame.

“Now, now, Miss Ember. We can’t have you ruining my fun. Hello, Ginny, dear.” A wall of fear slammed into Ginny, and she fell to her knees in the mud. _Why was she here?! She didn’t WANT to COME HERE!!!! _Oh, why couldn’t she be stronger? Why couldn’t she stop the killings? It wasn’t her fault, it was… it was… the Diary. _But Tom was kind to her_. The only one who cared, the only one who listened. She cast her eyes around, frantic, searching for light, but all she could see was the gold spirit. He gave off no light. Why, why hadn’t she listened to herself? She… NO! _Stop it, Ginny!_

“It’s alright to hate yourself, Ginny. Really. It’s not your fault all these things are happening to you. You can’t do anything, and that’s ok. Sometimes you just can’t.”

She wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. She _hated _herself so much. If she was strong, she’d be able to fight back. Why did she have to be weak and pathetic? It was hopeless.

_GET UP, GINNY. DO NOT LISTEN TO HIM!_

A woman’s voice echoed through the cavern, tranquil and serene. Below, Ginny realised she could see a faint light coming from down the passage, refracting like a rainbow. _The beam!_

The golden-spirit’s face turned from pity to rage in the blink of an eye.

“Equality…” he growled, eyes burning with purple fire. He vanished, and Ginny was left alone, panting in the mud. There was only the cave and the pinprick of light deeper inside.

The weight of fear that engulfed her began to ease, smoothing away like a migraine easing. Bracing herself on the clay-like wall, she stood on shaky legs. Then, one foot at a time, she continued down. Towards freedom.

* * *

Harry realised, rather quickly in fact, that killing Lucius Malfoy had not been a good idea. It had been a _brilliant_ one.

“POTTER!” Draco screamed as Harry and Ginny walked back from Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid, having a rousing discussion about Hippogriff mating cycles.

Harry, who had grown quite adept at ignoring Malfoy, continued listening to Mak and Hagrid’s conversation. Mak had a very high opinion of Hagrid, and he was the only person she’d ever shown herself to without Harry having to ask first. That was high praise indeed.

“They really have three mating seasons a year?!” Mak said, buzzing around Hagrid’s head.

“You bet they do,” Hagrid said, “It’s the eagle in ’em. Makes them more ‘er, well randy really.” Mak giggled, before flying down to Ginny’s shoulder, where Ember was perched, and elbowing her.

“Did you hear that!?”

“POTTER!!” Malfoy screamed again, and Harry was forced to look up at the bleach-blonde boy (who, in Harry’s mind, simply _screamed_ white male privilege) as he approached with what looked like at least twelve Slytherins behind him, all with wands drawn.

“This should be fun,” Ginny muttered.

“You killed my father!” He spat.

“I’ve killed several people Malfoy; you’re going to have to be more specific.” Harry began scratching his brain. Who had he killed? _Oh…_ right. The First Task. He’d shot the Killing Curse back at that emo guy. Honest mistake.

Malfoy came to a stop, wand pointed at Harry’s face, face bright red.

“Right now, Malfoy, put that down,” Hagrid said, moving forward to slap Malfoy’s arm away, but Harry held up a hand, stopping him.

“Let him come. I’ll be fine,” he said softly. He may not like Malfoy Jr, and Malfoy Sr might have been a complete and total fuckwit, but Harry had still killed Draco’s father. _That_… he could have handled better.

“The coroner’s report came back today. He didn’t die in the fire. He died from a Killing Curse! I know it was you! You were the last one in that arena… you… you _killed _him!” A tear dropped from Draco’s eye, sliding down his cheek.

“Silver hair? Black-robes? Stupid mask?” Harry asked, biting his lip. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ginny clench her left fist, tiny flames dancing across the skin. Her right hand was open, ready to grab Malfoy – to use Fusion or Division like he’d been teaching her. Mak and Ember both had their mystical armour formed around them.

“I’m going to end you, Potter. I don’t care how powerful you are.”

“Draco,” Harry said, voice low and dangerous, “Your father was a criminal and a mass-murderer. I’ve seen the reports from the War. No one knows how many humans Voldemort and his cronies killed, and your dad was one of his captains.”

“The imperious curse…” Draco muttered.

“Is bullshit and you know it. Don’t try and brandy the law with me. I grew up on the wrong side of it my entire life. I don’t _care_ if your father was able to get out of jail using a technicality. I care about _right_ and _wrong_. And raping and killing women and children is _wrong_.”

“Pah! Muggle filth! What my father did was a mercy! What I’m going to do to you now, won’t be.”

“Careful Draco. Your dad tried to kill me at the First Task, and he got his own curse thrown back at him.”

“Liar…” Harry simply lifted a hand and pointed at the jagged white lines that formed the scar that cut across his face. Draco took three very short sharp breaths, Then, sneering, he jerked his wand forward and opened his mouth.

Ginny pounced on him. 

She grabbed his arm and infused him with the Fusion force. His whole body lurched backwards as gravity began pulling him adjacent to the ground. Malfoy squawked, a red spell flying free from his wand into the sky, then he barrelled into the people directly behind him, knocking them all down to the ground. The Fusion wore off, and Malfoy slumped to the grass. Ginny stepped in front of Harry, hands held outwards, palms open. Mak and Ember both dissolved into flashes of light, circling around her, creating an artificial wind that made her hair begin to float behind her. Though Harry couldn’t see them, he would bet a considerable chunk of money that her eyes had started to glow.

“Merlin’s beard,” Hagrid whispered.

“If you want Harry, you’ll have to go through me,” she hissed. Harry couldn’t help but grin, an odd rush of pride surging through him. He folded his arms and floated up in the air slightly so he could see over Ginny’s head.

Draco struggled to his feet, complete and utter rage burning across his face.

“Stupefy!”

The spell was followed by dozens of others cast by Malfoy’s friends, but Ginny simply thrust forward her hands, and a shimmering wall of Division Force formed in front of her. Every spell vanished without a sound, and a few of the Slytherins lowered their wands in shock. Ginny released the shield, then slammed her fist into the ground. Two men, forged from stone, broke free of the earth, giant hammers in their hands. They began trudging towards Malfoy’s gang, footsteps echoing on the cobblestones. Harry’s smirk grew even wider. Two older looking students managed to destroy the golems, but Ginny had already begun crafting a new power. Using the Charge Force, she bent the light around her, letting it split into another version of herself, then another, then another, then another. Each one raised a hand, lightning crackling along their fingers.

“Leave,” she said through five mouths, “Now.” The dam broke, and Malfoy’s gang deserted him, running back up the rise and through the covered bridge. Malfoy remained, tears streaking down his face, holding his wand pointed at Harry with a trembling hand. Ginny’s four selves remerged into the original, but Mak and Ember continued their dance.

“I’ll make you pay!” He shouted, “Both of you!” Then he too turned and fled. Once he was gone, Ginny sank to her knees, and Harry dropped to the ground beside her, pulling her into a fierce hug. Her eyes were glowing with a soft inner fire. Mak and Ember finally reformed, and Ginny sagged into Harry’s shoulder.

“That,” she whispered, “takes a lot more out of you than I thought.”

“You’ll get used to it. That was excellent. I’m really proud of you,” he replied, muttering into her hair, then placing a kiss on her forehead.

“Thanks. I don’t think I’ve felt that powerful since… since the night I fought him off.” They sat there for a minute or so before Hagrid finally regained his voice.

“Ruddy BRILLIANT!” he boomed. Then he reached down and picked _both_ of them up in his giant arms.

“I’m breaking out the Butterbeer! That deserves a drink!” Then he carried them as they laughed all the way back to his hut.

* * *

**Authors Notes:**

Our older readers will recognise this note from before our break, but given the current climate and the number of people locked inside with nothing to do, we figured we’d post it again.

This fanfiction, while obviously centred on Harry Potter, has incorporated several elements from the Cosmere novels written by Brandon Sanderson. The author has written several series of novels of different genres within the same continuity, with the occasional crossover character or event.

Because we love these books so much, we’re going to plug them below. You can start from either of the two series that follow.

* * *

**The Mistborn Trilogy – Book 1: The Final Empire.**

_“Ash falls from the sky on the planet Scadrial. Beneath a red sun, and chocked by oppressive mists that dominate the night, no flowers or green plants have bloomed on this planet for a thousand years. Not since the Lord Ruler killed the prophesied Hero of Ages, taking the world for himself._

_For a millennia, the Skaa have slaved in misery and lived in fear while the Lord Ruler reigned with absolute power and ultimate terror, a divine and invincible leader. Hope is long lost, until a terribly scarred, heart-broken half-Skaa in the depths of the most hellish of the Lord Ruler’s prisons discovers he has the powers of a Mistborn. A brilliant thief and natural leader, Kelsier will turn his talents to the ultimate caper: one with the Lord Ruler himself as the mark.  
Only he's not just planning the greatest heist in history, he's plotting the overthrow of a divine despot.  
Kelsier has recruited the underworld's elite, the smartest and most trustworthy Allomancers, each of whom shares one of his many powers, and all of whom relish a high-stakes challenge. _

_But even with the best criminal crew ever assembled, Kel's plan looks like a long shot, until luck brings a ragged girl named Vin into his life. Like him, she's a half-Skaa orphan with the powers of a Mistborn, but she's lived a much harsher life. Vin has learned to expect betrayal from everyone she meets, and gotten it. She will have to learn to trust, if Kel is to help her master powers of which she never dreamed.”_

Set in a world where the Dark Lord won, if you’re a fan of Dystopias like the Hunger Games, or wish to learn about Preservation and Ruin, we recommend starting here.

* * *

**The Stormlight Archive – Book 1: The Way of Kings**

Speak again the ancient oaths:  
  
**Life before death.**  
**Strength before weakness.**  
**Journey before Destination.**  
  
and return to men the Shards they once bore.  
  
The Knights Radiant must stand again.

_“Roshar is a world of stone and storms. Uncanny tempests of incredible power sweep across the rocky terrain so frequently that they have shaped ecology and civilization alike. Animals hide in shells, trees pull in branches, and grass retracts into the soilless ground. Cities are built only where the topography offers shelter._

_It has been centuries since the fall of the ten consecrated orders known as the Knights Radiant, but their Shardblades and Shardplate remain: mystical swords and suits of armour that transform ordinary men into near-invincible warriors. Men trade kingdoms for Shardblades. Wars were fought for them, and won by them._

_One such war rages on a ruined landscape called the Shattered Plains. There, Kaladin, who traded his medical apprenticeship for a spear to protect his little brother, has been reduced to slavery. In a war that makes no sense, where ten armies fight separately against a single foe, he struggles to save his men and to fathom the leaders who consider them expendable._

_Brightlord Dalinar Kholin commands one of those other armies. Like his brother, the late king, he is fascinated by an ancient text called The Way of Kings. Troubled by over-powering visions of ancient times and the Knights Radiant, he has begun to doubt his own sanity._

_Across the ocean, an untried young woman named Shallan seeks to train under an eminent scholar and notorious heretic, Dalinar's niece, Jasnah. Though she genuinely loves learning, Shallan's motives are less than pure. As she plans a daring theft, her research for Jasnah hints at secrets of the Knights Radiant and the true cause of the war.”_

If you love Game of Thrones, the Lord of the Rings and other works of high fantasy, we highly recommend reading this series. To learn more about Odium and his war against Honour and Cultivation, start here.


	19. Chapter 19

# Chapter 19:

_“Endowment – who seems to be alive – is on the planet Nalthis. What has happened since this letter arrived? Has she truly discovered a way to resurrect the deceased as Khriss has heard? This is information I greatly desire to acquire.”_

_From Albus Dumbledore’s Notes; 20th Century, Earth._

* * *

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…” Ginny whispered, staring at the dress-robes her mother had sent after Ginny had asked for them. They were _hideous_. A relic of her Aunt Muriel’s. They were fluorescent green, with white lace around the neck and cuffs, and it seemed designed to downplay any and every possible feminine attribute she had.

There was nothing Ginny hated more than what Tom Riddle had done to her. What _she_ had let him do to her. But she was pragmatic enough to admit that there had been one lasting effect of her time under Tom’s influence. He had advanced her development – intending to increase her magical power. In doing so, he’d pushed her physical development further than it should be for someone her age. It did little good. Her mother had refused to send her any bras, and Hermione had taught her the spells to help with periods and cramps – she still had some of the boxes of muggle pads and liners in her trunk that Hermione had given her. Ginny had inherited her mother’s curvaceous figure, though, due to her father’s lanky jeans, she doubted she’d ever be as… voluptuous as Molly Weasley. And thank Merlin for_ that._

What it did mean was that the horrific dress her mother had sent – the one that looked like it belonged to someone from the previous century – did not fit her.

She dropped the dress on her bed in the head-girls room and sank into the nearby armchair in defeat.

“We could incinerate it?” Ember suggested.

Ginny opened her mouth to tell the faerie that was a ridiculous notion, then stopped. Because was it? It would certainly solve a lot of problems.

The door swung open, and Gabrielle rushed inside, followed by two of her Beauxbatons friends – Jacque and Eleanor – and Daphne.

“Ginny,” Eleanor commanded in her sweet, pitched French accent, “You simply must show us your dress.” 

“You are going to be ze centre of attention. With Fleur acting like an imbecile, and Krum being a boring, macho type, it will fall to you to thrill the entire ball. You must look your absolute best. I can ‘elp you with this, I am an expert at such…” Jacque trailed off, following Ginny’s forlorn gaze towards the abomination sitting on her bed. Gabrielle looked pained at the sight of the thing, Eleanor gasped in horror and Daphne cracked up laughing.

“Oh, Merlin. I figured your mum would only send you something super conservative, but _that_ looks like the most efficient chastity belt ever invented.” Ginny groaned in pain, slumping back into her chair in embarrassment.

“What am I going to _do_?” She anguished. God, she was a _champion_. She had to open the entire ball. Everyone would be staring at her. And Harry… oh, he would be so embarrassed. He’d regret ever asking her to the ball. Regret kissing her… Her stomach crumpled in on itself, and Ginny resisted the urge to vomit.

“This won’t do,” Gabrielle said, stamping her foot on the ground. Vel, perched in Gabrielle’s jacket pocket, perked up, staring around with wide eyes. She stepped over to Ginny and grabbed her by the shoulders. “I will fix this. Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan.” She stormed towards the door, then stopped, drawing her wand.

“Incendio!” The dress exploded in flame, and Ember let out a scream of glee.

In the hallway, Gabrielle led her friends to Harry’s door, then stopped, and turned conspiratorially to them.

“We are going to make damn sure Ginny looks astonishing at that ball, or I’ll go and swear myself to a convent to be celibate for the rest of my life. Eleanor, Daphne, you’ve got Harry.”

“What?” Daphne said, brows furrowed in confusion.

“I love the boy, but he doesn’t have a fashionable bone in his body. Make sure he’s actually _thought_ about buying dress-robes, and make sure he isn’t wearing a Muggle suit. You’ll probably have to teach him how to dance, and proper etiquette – he did grow up robbing people after all.” 

“Do not worry, Gabi,” Eleanor said, a sparkle in her eye as she rubbed her hands together, “We will make sure Harry Potter is ze perfect date.”

“Good. Jacque, you and I are going to use Madame Maxine’s emergency Floo. You’re the expert at this, and I’m about to make your wildest dreams come true.”

“Where are we going?” He asked.

“Château Delacour. I’m going to set you loose inside the Delacour Family Gallery. We’re Veela, we don’t collect art,” Gabrielle said, an enormous smile creeping across her face, “we collect _gowns_.”

* * *

Harry stood outside the entrance hall, hands clasped behind his back, trying to level his breathing. He couldn’t decide what exactly he was terrified of more. On the one hand, he was about to walk into the Great Hall on the arm of Ginny Weasley. Daphne and Gabrielle’s friends Eleanor had been giving him lessons on decorum and how to dance – which was very good, because Harry hadn’t realised he’d even _need_ to dance. Eleanor had declared Harry a natural at the art, Daphne – who knew better – had accused Harry of using the Strength Force to decrease his friction to ease in movements. She was very perceptive that girl. What if he screwed it up? Embarrassed her in front of the whole school? What if he accidentally set himself on fire because he was nervous… or god, what if, even worse, he set _Ginny_ on fire? He should have just gone stag… or… or… shown up fashionably late or… just bailed on the whole thing. Yes. That would have been a good idea.

The second thing that had Harry petrified was Nicolas Flamel. He’d spotted the mysterious man slipping inside in the Great Hall a few minutes ago, and there was no way he wouldn’t try and seek Harry out once more. In the two weeks since they’d first met the man, Harry and Mak had come to one terrifying conclusion. Nicolas Flamel was not of this Earth. He must be from some other planet – one with a different set of Gods. Dumbledore’s notes said as much. The strange colour augmentation that followed the man around must be part of whatever magic he had. Whatever it was, Mak was confident it didn’t derive from Imagination or Equality. Harry just hoped it wasn’t Ruin’s magic, or Odium’s. The giant sword he carried had been absent physically, but Mak had confirmed that he still had it on his person, though _how_ that was possible, she wasn’t sure. The flasks at his belt were most likely potions of some kind – though it once again begged asking the question, did they come from Earth or from somewhere else? Finally, the knife. A silver knife in a black sheath. Of all the man’s seeming powers and oddities, that knife terrified Harry and Mak the most. _“Mr Potter, the item you requested will be completed in a few days. I must make sure, however, that you are aware of the dangers associated with what you are asking us to make…”_

“Well, if it isn’t Harry James Potter,” Fred exclaimed, walking down the stairs from the Grand Staircase with Alicia Spinnet on his arm. Beside him was his brother George, Angelina Johnson walking alongside him.

“The greatest Wizard of our time,” George continued.

“The Hero of Magic,”

“The Defeater of Dragons,”

“Summoner of Storms,”

Angelina and Alicia both slapped their respective twin over the back of the head, and they all laughed. Harry didn’t partake, couldn’t partake, because all the breath he was holding had vanished from him in a moment.

Ginny stood at the top of the staircase, wearing a gown of midnight blue, silver beading across the bodice. The upper half of the garment hugged her frame, accentuating her curves, then below the waist it tapered out into flowing skirts that dusted the ground. Her hair had been intricately curled and pulled around her right shoulder – an elegant silver brocade holding it in place. Her eyeshadow matched the shade of her dress, eyeliner applied with utter precision. Her cheeks shined softly with a silver blush, and her lips were darker and fuller – though how he could tell he wasn’t sure. But what drew all of Harry’s attention, was the beaming smile on Ginny’s face. No matter what happened for the rest of the night, seeing that gorgeous grin made everything worth it.

“Well, my work is done,” a voice said from behind him, but Harry was too transfixed to care.

“Holy mother of Merlin.”

“Wow.”

“She’s gorgeous.”

“Magnifique,”

“Woah.”

Ginny, still with that infectious grin, reached the bottom of the stairs, and Harry, remembering Daphne and Eleanor’s lessons, stepped towards her.

“You look _amazing,”_ he whispered. He took her hand in his, and raised it to his lips, kissing it lightly. Ginny blushed furiously, biting her lip. _Thank you, Eleanor._

“You look quite dashing yourself,” she replied, taking his hand in hers and squeezing.

“This?” Harry said, gesturing to the black and blue-trimmed dress robes he wore, “I just wore what Daphne told me to.” Ginny laughed before holding her free hand up in a thumbs-up position to someone over his shoulder. Harry turned to look, and sure enough, Daphne was standing with Jacque a few feet behind them – Daphne wearing a sleek silver mermaid gown and Jacque wearing a pure white suit.

“_Wow_, Harry. Thanks for all the compliments,” Gabrielle said, and Harry spun back around, realising with a start that Gabrielle – in black velvet – and Eleanor – wearing a green ensemble – had actually been beside Ginny as she walked down the stairs. Bugger. Not even five minutes in and he’d already insulted his friends. This was going to be a long night.

“Do not be so ‘arsh on him, Gabi,” Eleanor said – blood-red lips curling in a sly smile, “he is still trying to process the beauty of his girlfriend. It will take ‘im a few minutes to think clearly again.”

“We’re not…” Ginny started, but Eleanor cut her off.

“Oh please. You are together now. It is just men being bad at these things we call feelings. He is yours – did you not see ‘im drooling at the sight of you?! Everyone else certainly did.”

Harry and Ginny both blushed, and they were saved from further embarrassment by Professor McGonagall, who came rushing over to collect them.

* * *

Emily stumbled out of the fireplace, forcing herself forward in her green gown so as not to hold up the line. James stepped out behind her in a tight suit, then came Nylah in a white and gold embroidered dress, and finally Sammy in white lace.

Emily thought these outfits were ridiculous. There was more fabric than she knew what to do with, and while she admitted they were pretty, she didn’t see what the big fuss was about. She was far more comfortable in sweats and jeans. If she wanted to feel sexy, she’d wear shorts to show off her legs, or something to hug her chest, not these over the top ballroom dresses. One of these dresses could feed someone in the Bunker for weeks, perhaps months.

What she was impressed by, was Hogwarts Castle. It really was a castle, right out of ancient history. Stone floors, gargoyles lining the walls, candle-lit braziers hanging from the roof instead of electric lights. This banquet hall they’d arrived in was… well, it was breathtaking. The roof had been magicked to look like a starry night sky, and real snow was falling around them. Sculptures made from ice adorned every table, and tiny magical elves roamed the hall wearing robes with the Hogwarts crest on them.

James, Sammy and Nylah came up beside her, equally astonished by the spectacle.

“This is incredible,” James whispered.

“That’s one word for it,” Nylah said, “Now we need to find Harry…” The giant wooden doors at the head of the hall swung open, and all attention turned to towards the people walking inside. First came a tall woman with silver hair like a Targaryen, wearing an elaborate silver dress Emily didn’t have time for, on the arm of a boy who looked very much like he belonged to a fraternity. Next was an imposing man – foreign by Emily’s guess – walking beside a tall, dark-skinned woman with braided hair. Finally, clearly drawing more attention than the other two, was a young woman Emily’s age, with hair like flickering flames wearing a gorgeous midnight blue gown. And walking with his hand grasped firmly in hers, was Harry.

She watched the couple reach the centre of the room and stared unhearing as they began to slow dance. Neither of them were very good, certainly worse than the other two couples, but they made up for it in the way they smiled, the way they seemed to fit together, the way they laughed.

And deep down inside, a little piece of Emily’s heart died.

* * *

Ginny was sure she’d drunk a love-potion, because nothing, nothing at all, could get rid of the haze that surrounded her. She was sitting at one of the tables adorned with ice-sculptures – this one in the shape of an Owl – with Harry, Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia and Gabrielle. And everything was amazing. The snow falling around her, numerous flakes caught in her hair. The warmth of the butterbeer as it slid down her throat. The rowdy conversation as Fred and George relayed the prank they’d played on the early arrivals. The feel of this exquisite dress on her body. The glow of Harry’s face whenever he looked at her. The heat that coursed within her at his proximity. Everything was perfect.

“Ah! Harry Potter, just the man I wanted to see.” The sound of a chair scraping along stone drew the attention of everyone at the table, and the light reflecting through the ice-sculpture began refracting in a noticeably rainbow hue. Harry froze, and his hand clenched around his knife. Ginny, concerned, turned to look at the newcomer. He was tall and well built, with hair greying at the temples. His dress robes were unlike anything she’d ever seen before. He wore a sky-blue waistcoat over a loose-fitting shirt, with a knee-length… _armoured skirt_? It was. It was an actual skirt of metal chain-link armour. Only this armour looked to be made from a different material than the suits that adorned Hogwarts halls. His belt was a darker contrasting blue, of a material that resembled a mix between silk and rope, tied twice around his waist with the end hanging down his leg.

He pulled a chair from another table upon Harry’s other side, and sat on it backwards.

“And you must be our brave Champion. You look simply dazzling tonight, Miss Weasley,” the man said, reaching past Harry to offer his hand to Ginny. She took it warily, then the man leaned his forearms on his chair.

“Thank you, Mr…”

“Flamel dear. Nicolas Flamel.” Ginny froze.

“As in… _the_ Nicolas Flamel?” Fred whispered.

“Indeed. I know of no other. Though I haven’t been back to Earth for a few years now, so there may be another, I don’t know I suppose. I should have to check!” He said cheerfully, before grabbing a chicken-wing and biting down on it. _This _was Nicolas Flamel? The man was a legend. The oldest and wisest man on Earth… wait, did he say…?

“Haven’t been to Earth?” Gabrielle asked hesitantly.

“No. I take regular sojourns across the Cosmere. Things do tend to get dreadfully boring after 700 years.”

“Where have you been then?” Alicia queried, looking intrigued.

“Well, you see I’ve just come back from the planet Roshar. It isn’t too far away if you hire the Reachers to ferry you across the Expanse of Delusions. Things are very interesting over there at the moment. What with Odium gaining the upper hand in his endless squabble with Honour and Cultivation. There are rumours you see… the Night of Sorrows, the True Desolation. It’s all _very_ exciting. I even brought back a rather one of a kind souvenir, would you like to see it?”

All the blood drained from Ginny’s face in a heartbeat, and the haze of perfection that had clouded her night, shattered. _Odium._ Oh, Merlin not him. Please not him… he was trapped. Imprisoned. He had said as much. Oh God, please not him. Not again. Her fork clattered to the table, dropped from trembling hands. No one noticed. Where was Ember?

Flamel reached behind him, and a fog of mist appeared around his hand, before coalescing into a giant silvery metal sword, curved like a half-moon from tip to hilt.

Inside Ginny’s mind, Ember screamed in utter terror.

Fred, George, Alicia and Angelina’s jaws all dropped open.

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

Gabrielle shoved her seat back, then bolted across the room, leaving the chair to clatter on the flagstones as it fell ass over tip. Before anyone could register that she’d left, another man had appeared, grabbing the chair, righting it, and taking Gabrielle’s vacated place.

He was short, thin of frame, with shaggy black hair and ashen skin. His crystal blue eyes had a spark of mischief in them that was very unnerving.

“Now, now, Nicolas. I do believe that’s enough confusing the poor children. Talk of other worlds when they haven’t even finished school…”

Flamel let the sword vanish back to mist. “Of course, I do forget myself sometimes. But tell me, Master Hoid, how fares Edgli? You’ve seen her recently, I imagine. The rumours I’ve heard coming from Nalthis… let’s just say I’m a bit concerned.”

“_You’re _concerned? The man who’s managed to live for 700 years by imprisoning a cognitive entity? I dare say that’s a bit hypocritical.” Harry took a sharp breath, and his gaze flitted to Ginny’s. A cognitive entity? What was a… wait, did he mean a _faerie?_

“Bah!” Flamel said, waving off Hoid’s comment. “Spren are spren. It’s like putting a fish in a fish tank. The fish doesn’t care, so why should I?” Hoid raised an eyebrow, before grabbing a mug of butterbeer.

“I think you’re conveniently forgetting the nature of your own world Flamel. The Shard of Imagination’s power has a tendency to induce sentience more so than others. To say a faerie is a spren is to say a goldfish is a dolphin. While both are fish, the intelligence of the species varies just a tad.”

Flamel’s smile vanished.

“What are you doing here, Hoid? What do you want?” Hoid stood up from his seat and straightened his jacket.

“I’m here to find a friend of mine. I suggest you stay out of our way. You may think you’re collected powers make you invincible, but I don’t think _I_ need to remind you of what will happen should one of the _Others _turn their gaze upon you. All it takes is one misstep and…” Hoid snapped his fingers, “Ruin is free, and he takes such pleasure in twisting people who use his arts without permission. Even Endowment could snuff you out like a candle if she was in the mood.” He turned and left, strolling towards a tall African-woman with her long hair braided, standing in the corner.

Ginny swallowed, pushing thoughts of Odium out of her mind.

“Harry? Care to dance?”

“Yes!” Harry said, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. They rose without a farewell and retreated to the safety of the dance-floor.


	20. Chapter 20

# Chapter 20:

_“Odium. This name frightens me. Hatred or Divine Wrath. A god personified in these things can only be evil. According to the journal, this god was behind the deaths of at least three others: Devotion, Dominion and Ambition. Could Odium be behind Equality’s death as well? This terrifies me. Far more so than the recently increased politicking of the Pureblood houses’ Madame Bones has been attempting to convince me could be dangerous. I have found another source of information. Merlin. It seems he spent the last year of his life searching for the knowledge I now find myself hunting. I fear there is only one path ahead from here. I must go to the Vault of Dreams. I must find Imagination.”_

_From Albus Dumbledore’s Notes; 20th Century, Earth._

* * *

Emily finally gathered the courage to go and talk to Harry and his beautiful date as the Ball rolled to a close. She strode towards them as they danced in the middle of the floor, ignoring the gnawing at her stomach, the tremble in her hands. She stopped a few feet away and coughed as politely as she could manage. Harry turned towards her, and the smile that lit his face was enough to make her forget all her fears and horrors for a brief, blissful moment.

“Em!” He split from his surprised partner and rushed over to her, then he was hugging her, and she was hugging him back.

“It’s so good to see you,” he whispered.

“Likewise, Superhero,” she quipped, and Harry groaned.

“Oh god, not you too.”

“Harry?” his date asked, looking on in confusion.

“Ginny! This is Emily. We grew up together on the streets. How did you get here? What happened at the Bunker? You never replied to my second letter.”

Now it was Emily’s turn to frown.

“Second letter? We only got your first one, with the men you sent to shield the Bunker. Thanks for that by the way,” she said.

Harry clenched his jaw, and his gaze flickered from her to a man with long silver hair sitting at the high table. The same man who’d attacked Harry at the train station. _Evil Gandalf, _she realised.

“Damn you Dumbledore.”

“What’s going on, Harry?” Ginny whispered, stepping up beside him.

“Is anyone else with you?” He asked Emily, and she nodded. “Sammy is watching the fireplace we used to get here, and Nylah is watching the main doors. I don’t know where James has got to…”

“Crap. First Flamel, then fucking Odium, now this. Come on, we have to get you guys to safety,” he muttered, before grabbing both Ginny’s arm and Emily’s and pulling them towards the exit, casting fearful looks over his shoulder the whole time. Emily tried to follow his gaze, but the only person of note was a middle-aged man in an armoured skirt – considering the breadth of weirdness she’d experienced tonight, chain-mail was honestly quite low on the list of things that surprised her.

“Harry!” Emily protested, but Harry ignored her, instead making a beeline for a figure in a black trench-coat in the back corner of the room, a sickly man in a shabby coat standing beside him.

Emily waved to Nylah, and the older woman caught it, moving to join them.

“Sirius!” Harry called, and the trench-coat man spun around. Emily started to scream as she recognised his face, but Ginny slapped a hand over her mouth.

“He’s a murderer!” She snapped.

“Falsely accused,” Ginny said pointedly, clearly annoyed at her. Well, Emily was annoyed at this cute little tart too.

“Watch how you talk,” she hissed back.

“Harry!” Sirius Black, notorious mass-murderer, exclaimed, raising a glass in mock salute. “Two lovely ladies on your arm. Your father would be proud!”

“I need you to get her and three others out of the castle. Now!” Harry said, not even acknowledging the comment. Black turned serious, the smile vanishing from his face.

“What’s up? Who are they?”

“They’re muggles,” Harry whispered, and Emily hid a wince at his use of the derogatory slur, “They came looking for me. They practically raised me…” Nylah reached them, Sammy and James at her side. She shoved both Emily and Ginny out of the way and threw her arms around Harry.

“Oh god, I’m so glad you’re alright. Harry, the Bunker! It’s…”

“It’s good to see you to Nylah, but we really can’t talk right now.” He peeled away from Nylah’s grasp, and flashed a smile towards Sammy and James, before fixing back on Sirius.

“Dumbledore will kill them if he finds out.” He trailed off, looking over his shoulder again. “Flamel is still watching me, and Mak won’t come into the Hall while he’s here.”

“Neither will Ember,” Ginny added.

“Done,” Sirius said, looking the four of them over, “Anyone who’s a friend of Harry’s is a friend of mine, and I’ve got fourteen years of prison to make up for. You’ve got it, Harry.”

“Don’t worry,” the shabby man interjected, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t accidentally kill them or something.”

“Cheers, Remus,” Harry said. He moved to hug both Sammy and James and whispered something in Sammy’s ear Emily didn’t catch. She did hear Sammy’s reply.

“I don’t blame you.” She berated herself for eavesdropping after that. Finally, Harry bid them a quick farewell, and he led Ginny away. Emily followed them, blinking several times.

That… was not the reunion she had imagined, the good one or the bad.

* * *

Harry escorted Ginny back to her room in Gryffindor Tower, a total gentleman. They avoided talking about Harry’s friends or Flamel. Ginny could tell Harry knew something about what the man had said. About Odium. About that monster. But tonight wasn’t the night for that. This was the end of her gorgeous night, of their date. And Ginny… well, she wasn’t entirely sure she dared to do what she really wanted to.

The couple reached her door, and Ginny let go of Harry’s hand to open it.

“I had an absolutely wonderful time tonight, Flamel notwithstanding,” Harry said awkwardly. Mak had returned to his shoulder, and Ember was hiding in Ginny’s hair. Both faeries really hated Flamel, or more accurately, that sword he carried. Neither Harry nor Ginny had seen Gabrielle since she had run away, but they could only assume Vel had suffered a similar reaction, owing to her flight.

“So did I,” she said, twisting the door handle and swinging inside with the wood.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he said, smiling stupidly. Though, Ginny supposed she couldn’t really say anything, as the soreness in her face indicated she had been doing much the same thing all night.

Ginny paused for a brief moment to steel her nerves, to ensure that she really wanted to do this. Then, batting her eyes, she spoke a single sentence.

“You know, it took three people to get me into this dress. It might go easier if I had someone to help me take it off.”

Harry’s face turned bright red, and Mak fell off his shoulder in shock. Ginny could feel the heat rising in her own cheeks… actually, she was pretty sure that was Ember’s whole-body catching fire as she hid inside Ginny’s temporary curls.

Ginny, not backing out now, gestured into the room with her head. Harry swallowed, then followed her inside. Smiling in both victory and apprehension, she closed the door behind him.

* * *

## One and a half years ago,

Ginny staggered down the hallway from the Library, entire body shaking. Alarms were blaring through the school, and students were running every which way. It didn’t matter. The damage was done. Hermione Granger was dead.

_Mudblood Traitor. She deserved it._

_No, she didn’t! Go away!_

She… she remembered. A cavern. A man in gold. A voice in the air. Tom… It was Tom… No. Tom was her only friend. Nobody else liked her, Ron ignored her, the Twins were too busy for her, the girls in her dorm despised her. Tom was her only friend.

_The Diary… Tom… have to… Have to what?_

She staggered again, and for a split second, the castle vanished. She saw a sea of mud under a dark sky. A beam of white light, refracting all colours of the rainbow, soared into the air not too far from her. And in front of her was a pale skinned boy in Hogwarts robes, smiling savagely at her, eyes ravenous.

It was gone as soon as it came, and Ginny slammed into a pudgy boy from Gryffindor. One of Ron’s dormmates, she thought. She turned a corner and tried to put a hand to the wall. It wouldn’t touch the stone. She was holding something in her hand, a small book with a green cover.

She blinked, and once again she glimpsed that other place. Only this time, in front of her, was a man dressed in golden robes, with white hair, and kindly eyes. He reminded her of Dumbledore.

_Dreams… Tom… The Diary… Curses…_

She pushed forward, and with every step, her vision warped. One moment she was in Hogwarts, pushing through the tide of students. The next, she was wading through mud, little bubbles of light rushing past her. And each time, the person watching her changed. The man in gold; the boy with the pale skin; the fire-spirit with flames dancing in her hair; a woman dressed in raiment that shifted and changed, blurring between all the colours Ginny had ever seen; a tall man with skin marbled red and black.

She forced herself forward.

_“Ginny. Let go, my sweet. Come to me.”_

_“Dear Ginny, you have suffered so much. Just give in.”_

_“Fight Him, Ginny!”_

_YOU ALONE HAVE THE POWER TO STOP HIM, DAUGHTER. BE STRONG._

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!!” She screamed, shoving open a door and slamming it behind her. Then she threw the Diary across the room, hearing a satisfying thud, then a splash. She blinked away that other place and gasped. She was in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. How had she gotten here? She’d been in the Library and… in the Library and… Hermione. She’d killed Hermione. Hadn’t she? No, the Basilisk killed her. Tom made her do it. The Diary… Oh, how had she not known! But… Tom was her friend… he was… NO! He wasn’t her friend. He’d been using her the whole time! But why would he do that? He liked her. She told him stories. He was just a Diary. Get out, get out, get out, get out…

She slid down the door, sinking to the floor.

“Really? Throwing things at me now!” Moaning Myrtle whined, flying out from a toilet, dislodging the Diary. It fell to the tiles as water began to shoot out from the basin, and floated in the puddle, slowly but surely making it’s way back towards her.

“Myrtle?” She croaked. The world fazed again, revealing the sea of mud, and the beam… freedom. Freedom was at the beam. Myrtle floated above the mud, jaw hanging open. She seemed more substantial on this side. Less transparent somehow. Directly in front of them was a hole in the mud. The cave? Did she know a cave? Yes, she did. Only she’d entered from somewhere else on the other side. In her dream. A dream? What dream?

The bathroom snapped back into place, but Myrtle remained where she was. Staring at Ginny in total shock.

“How did… You can _see _into the _Valley_?” Myrtle whispered. The water on the floor reached Ginny’s foot, and the Diary came to a rest beside her.

Trembling, she reached out and grabbed it. Then she rose up and stalked to the sinks at the centre of the room. Where the hole had been on the other side.

“Myrtle? How do I open it?”

* * *

Daphne and Gabrielle were the last to arrive at the impromptu meeting in the house Sirius Black had bought in Hogsmeade. A meeting between an assortment of people Daphne never thought she would see working on the same team.

Sirius’ dining room had been enlarged with a space-enhancing charm, and a large table with velvet seats dominated the space. A fire roared in the hearth on one side, and through the doorway to the kitchen, Harry’s muggle friends – who’d somehow infiltrated _Hogwarts_ without being discovered – were cooking an enormous meal, Harry and Ginny helping them.

The table was already half full. Sirius and Professor Lupin sat at one end of the table, speaking with Professor McGonagall. Hagrid was there too, speaking at length to the twins about some prank they’d pulled during the Yule Ball. Finally, sitting beside the Sorting Hat – which was perched on the back of a chair – was Daphne’s father.

A bizarre group indeed.

Daphne took the open seat next to her father, Gabrielle sitting beside her and placing Vel on the table.

“Father,” she said, bowing her head slightly.

“Daphne my girl, you’ve certainly put me in interesting company,” he replied, rubbing her shoulders.

“Tell me about it,” she muttered.

“Ah! Miss Greengrass,” the Sorting Hat exclaimed, perking up, “I don’t suppose this meeting is to apologise and return me to the Headmaster’s Study is it?”

“I’m afraid not Hogs,” Harry said, entering the room with a roast chicken on a wooden plate. He placed the chicken in the centre of the table, and the others made their way out, each carrying a platter of their own. It was bizarre for Daphne, having food cooked and brought out by other people, with no magic involved. She glanced at her father, who looked equally as bewildered. As Ginny brought up the rear – a plate of Yorkshire puddings in her arms and Mak and Ember on her shoulders – Professor Flitwick entered the building and closed the door.

“You can be sure that no-one is listening in on us, Mr Potter, but you better have an excellent reason for the subterfuge and leaving the school without permission. I’ve half a mind to report you, regardless of all your feats and abilities.”

“I respect that Professor, and don’t worry, I’ve got a very good reason.” Harry sat down beside Gabrielle, Ginny on his other side, and the muggles all followed suit.

“Let’s dig in,” Harry said, and everyone hesitantly began eating. The atmosphere was incredibly tense, but Harry didn’t say a word. Instead, he enjoyed his meal, and Daphne had to admit that she enjoyed hers too. How odd.

Only when stomachs were full, plates were cleared, and Professor McGonagall had cast a spell to begin washing up, did Harry withdraw a stack of papers from his cloak. The notes he’d stolen from Dumbledore’s office. Daphne had utterly forgotten them!

“I’ve asked you all here because you are the only people I trust,” he said as Ember and Mak, visible to all, stepped into the middle of the table with Vel.

“Harry, you have to tell us what’s going on?!” the muggle girl, Emily, begged.

“We’ve been locked up here for three days now,” the other girl, the one who looked like she could be another Weasley, pointed out.

“Yeah Potter, what gives?” Fred asked. Everyone’s attention fixed on Harry, who began fiddling with the papers.

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you all,” he said, swallowing thickly. “I wasn’t sure who I could trust, and to be honest, I didn’t think most of it was relevant. But with Flamel here, watching me, it’s only fair you know what’s at stake.”

He looked up, directing his gaze to Professors Flitwick, McGonagall and Lupin. As he spoke, his voice took on that hard, commanding tone. The one he’d used the night they first met. His eyes flashed steely determination, and he held himself as if he was the most important person in the room.

“As I’m sure you’ve guessed by now Professors, given Hogs is hanging off the chair, I was the one who broke into the Headmaster’s Office and stole the Sorting Hat the night Sirius broke into the castle.” None of them looked very surprised.

“What you don’t know is that I also stole a stack of notes from Dumbledore’s desk, and an Invisibility Cloak that Sirius tells me belonged to my father. Why the cloak and the hat? Because they were both powered by imprisoned faeries.” Harry launched into an explanation of his destruction of the cloak to release Vel, and Hogs explained how he was powering the Hogwarts Wards.

“So not all you magic types have faeries like Mak?” Nylah asked, leaning forward curiously.

“No,” Professor McGonagall said, frowning, “the magic of the Imagineers, the Art of Design, was lost hundreds of years ago. Harry and Ginny, and now I suppose Miss Delacour, are the first practitioners in centuries.”

“Because of the Pact of Truth,” Harry said, “The spell that _Flamel_, the guy in the chain-mail at the Ball, put in place.”

“The Pact of Truth was put in place to protect people,” Lupin argued, “Faeries were using magic to cast ill-luck on both wizards and non-magic folk alike.”

“That’s wrong Professor,” Mak said, fluttering up in the air, “While some of my kind were undoubtedly tricksters, we were not the cause of your ill will. We cannot use Investiture, _magic,_ without a human bond. I can only perform the most basic uses of the Six Forces, through my connection to Harry. We faeries are born from _your_ imaginations. We’re attracted to your hopes, your dreams – both good and bad. Any ill will people suffered beyond a stubbed toe, or maybe an unfavourable wind was your own fault. You cast the blame onto our people.”

“And in doing so,” Ember continued, “you condemned us to death.”

“Death?” Hagrid asked, enormous hands gripping the table.

“The faeries come from a place called the Valley,” Ginny explained, “The Expanse of Delusions. It’s a realm of thought and spirit. But they’re born from our imaginations. The Pact of Truth sealed the barriers between our realm and theirs, cutting them off from their source of life.”

“Now, our race is all but extinct,” Mak continued, “My memory is still so vague, but I remember my family begging me to join them on the ships fleeing across the sea. Fleeing to another world. I would have joined them if Harry had not called for me.”

Flitwick slumped back in his seat, looking defeated. Even Daphne, who’d known all this before, couldn’t help that hollow feeling inside her from returning. Her father gripped her hand, but otherwise didn’t let any outward emotion show.

“Another world?” Sirius finally asked, disturbing the odd silence that had engulfed the room.

Harry cleared his throat.

“Yes. That’s the thing I’ve been keeping from you all.” He glanced at Ginny then, and Daphne realised with a shock that even she didn’t know what Harry was about to reveal.

“The notes I stole from Dumbledore’s office are a record of the Headmaster’s interactions with a mysterious prisoner he found in the Dark Wizard Grindelwald’s fortress after his defeat. The papers go into detail, analysing who this unknown woman might have been, what Grindelwald learned from her… and a letter she somehow received despite being broken in the mind and incarcerated.”

He took one of the pages and read aloud.

_“Friend,_

_It has been some time, but I have received no further communication from you, and am beginning to worry. Frightening events have occurred, events you must be made aware of. As predicted, the Knights Radiant have fallen without Honour to guide them. Cultivation has hidden somewhere on Roshar, and none of our agents can discern her location. But the more horrifying thing is that Ruin is free. It is only a matter of time before he overcomes the last vestiges of Preservation’s power on Scadrial and finally destroys that world. I am heading there now to do what I can. That’s on top of the rumours coming from Nalthis of Endowment resurrecting the dead. If you receive this, reply immediately. _

_If, as Hoid fears, this letter has perhaps fallen into the hands of another, to you, I say this: Be careful of what you seek. The cosmere is a vast and dangerous place for the ill-informed. If you have killed my friend, know that we have long memories, and are not quick to forgive._

_Khriss.”_

Harry put the page down and looked around the table.

“What does it mean?” Emily asked.

“It means we’re not alone in the Universe.”

“As in, aliens?” Nylah asked, gripping her seat.

“Maybe,” Harry said, “Or maybe they’re human like us. Regardless, Flamel is one of them.”

“How can you be sure?” McGonagall asked, brows furrowed in disbelief.

“The way that colours warp around him when he moves. It’s some sort of magic. Not of the faeries, and not of wizardry either.”

“His sword,” Mak, Ember and Vel all said in unison.

“It is not of this world. It’s _evil_,” Mak finished, and the trio all shivered.

“Aliens! Of course! First Faeries. Next Wizards. Now Aliens! What’s next? Gods?” Nylah exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. Harry and Ginny both flinched, and Daphne felt a cold hand stretch around her soul. Nylah saw it too.

“Oh, for the love of motherfucking Jesus. You’re telling me _God_ is real?”

“I don’t know about capital ‘G’ God, but according to Dumbledore’s notes, there are sixteen of them out in the Cosmere.”

_“Sixteen?” _

The word left the mouths of almost everyone at the table at once.

“Each one seems to embody some defining principle. It’s not really an emotion, more like an intent of sorts. Dumbledore was able to identify eleven of the sixteen,” Harry continued, everyone staring at him in a mixture of terror and awe.

“Devotion and Dominion are both dead… or _splintered_ is the term the notes use.”

“A god can die?” Sammy asked, voice hesitant.

“Apparently,” Harry said, “Ambition is also dead. Dumbledore theorises that the same thing happened to Honour, but isn’t certain.”

“Honour is dead?” Lupin asked, a resigned look on his face, “I suppose that’s poetic, isn’t it?”

“That brings us to the others. Endowment and Cultivation seem safe enough, though one is hiding and the other seems unstable. Then there’s Preservation and Ruin.”

All the purebloods at the table perked up simultaneously.

“Preservation and Ruin?” Daphne’s father asked.

“Yeah? What do you all know that I don’t?”

“There’s an old story, told to pureblood children, about an old dark lord,” Ginny began, casting her eyes to her brothers.

“It speaks of two brothers, Leras and Ati,” Fred said, shifting uneasily, “One born a wizard, one born a squib.”

“They grew up best friends who did everything together, but Ati, the younger brother, was secretly jealous of the elder, Leras, for he had magic,” Sirius continued.

“When the time came for the brothers to go to Hogwarts, they refused to be separated. Instead, they journeyed for sixteen days to meet the Grand Wizard Merlin. In Camelot, they begged Merlin to use his power to bestow magic on Ati, and, moved by their friendship, he did so.”

McGonagall huffed, clearly not finding much merit in the story.

“They went to Hogwarts together, and Leras taught Ati everything he knew. But Ati became jealous of his brother once again. For Leras was popular and well-liked, and Ati, despite being just as kind and powerful, was alone. Finally, he went to Merlin and asked why this was, and Merlin told him that Ati was a squib who had stolen magic that wasn’t his. As a result, he would forever be destined to bring ruin to everything he touched. Consumed with rage, Ati returned to Hogwarts and made it his life’s mission to destroy everything Leras held dear.”

George bit his lip before taking up the tale.

“The two brothers, once so close, turned against one another. Leras dedicated himself to preserving the Wizarding World, and Ati devoted himself to destroying it.”

“Preservation and Ruin,” Sammy said, catching on.

“Well,” George continued looking even more uncomfortable, “Neither could defeat the other, so Preservation gave up his power to seal Ruin away forever.”

McGonagall huffed again. “It’s _supposed _to be a story about the dangers of Squibs and Muggleborns who ‘rise above their stations’. It’s a barbaric story with no basis in historical fact and quite simply shouldn’t be told.”

“We always hated that story,” Fred and George said in sync.

“Me too,” Sirius muttered.

“I can see why,” Harry agreed, “But it may be more truthful than you think. I just think it didn’t happen on Earth.” He glanced back at his papers. “Dumbledore isn’t quite sure, but the letter mentions that _“Ruin is free,” _and that,_ “It is only a matter of time before he overcomes the last vestiges of Preservation’s power on Scadrial and finally destroys that world.”” _

“I wouldn’t want to be someone on this planet ‘Scadrial’ then,” Daphne whispered. Everyone muttered their agreement.

Harry took a deep breath, then forged on. “That leaves us. There are two systems of magic on Earth that we know of. Enchantment – the magic of witches and wizards; and Design – the magic of faeries and the six forces.”

“So, what?” Sirius asked, “That means there are two of these gods on Earth somewhere?”

“_Were_ two gods on Earth, yes,” Harry confirmed. Then, as if this news couldn’t make her any more uncomfortable, Harry read from the sheet again.

_“I have found Gellert’s notes on the woman. Or, more accurately, I have found her notes on us. She has written a journal documenting what she has observed of our culture and magics. She seems fixated on two entities she believes exist here on Earth: a being called Imagination, and another called Equality. Only, from her observations, she seems to have come to the conclusion that this ‘Equality’ is dead, attributing the axial tilt to her fall.”_

Harry looked back up at everyone, eyes flicking between each person individually. “I think it’s safe to say that Imagination is the god of Design, the god of the ancient Imagineers. The faerie blooded races – the faeries, the House Elves, the Veela and the Goblins – they all came from him. Equality is the goddess of Enchantment, and she’s…” he trailed off, only for his statement to be completed by Ginny.

“Dead. Killed by Odium.” Harry suppressed a shiver, and Mak and Ember both squeaked at the name. Harry spun towards Ginny, who looked like she wanted to bury herself in her chair. Daphne frowned. Odium? What did that mean?

“When I was… When I was possessed by the Diary,” Ginny began, body breaking into shivers, “I met Tom Riddle’s benefactor. The man who gave him the means to create the Diary in the first place. A spirit in golden raiment, who exuded fear and hatred. He called himself Odium. But… he said he was trapped in Damnation, unable to affect the world directly. That was why he had to use Tom as a pawn.”

Gabrielle looked up, shock in her eyes, “Flamel. When he came to our table, he said something… something about an Odium, and his fight with Honour and Cultivation… she trailed off, getting a faraway look in her eye. “The Night of Sorrows, the True Desolation…” she whispered, before glancing to the corner of the room and jumping slightly in fright.

“According to the mysterious Khriss, Odium is bound to the planet Braize in the Rosharon System, though _how_ that is I don’t know,” Harry said, “But regardless of where he is _now_, we have to deal with what he left behind. Equality is dead, which explains a hell of a lot when you think about it. The axial tilt, the strangeness of Pureblood-Muggleborn oppression. It even explains the bizarre things that have been happening in the human world.”

Everyone nodded, dumbfounded.

“Why are you telling us all this?” Sammy said, eventually.

“Because there are still three faeries trapped. Dumbledore has two, and Flamel has one bound to the Philosophers Stone. The two are working together, that’s how Dumbledore was able to bind me with that shackle. Flamel taught him how with knowledge from these other planets. If we’re going to free the faeries, we need a way to take him down, which presents an issue given we have no idea what exactly he can do.”

Daphne swallowed hard, then an idea came to mind. It was a terrible idea, really. Utterly stupid. But it was the best she had, and no one else was offering any plans. So she spoke up despite the terror she felt in her bones at all this news and forged forward. 

* * *

Meanwhile, in the forests of Albania, Peter Pettigrew, following rumours upon rumours, finally discovered what remained of his master. A man from Roshar, or someone with similar knowledge, might have called him a spren. A scholar from Silverlight might deem the creature a cognitive shadow. Regardless of what you called him, the once-great Dark Lord Voldemort was now a disembodied spirit possessing snakes and rats. How appropriate it was then that the vessel of his return should come in the form of a man that spent more time in the company of rats than of men.

And as the sun rose hundreds of miles away over Japan, for it was always rising somewhere, it flashed a brilliant green – pushing the axial tilt back to evil.

* * *

_“It has been a long week. My journey to the Vault did not go as planned. I triggered a proximity ward. A very well crafted one as well. Now I find myself working with the legendary Nicolas Flamel. He has apparently known about the cosmere for centuries and has travelled it extensively. He has a plan, a plan I find myself agreeing with. If Odium or one of the Shards we do not know does come for this world, we will not let it fall, no matter what stands in our way.”_

_From Albus Dumbledore’s Notes; 20th Century, Earth._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That brings us to the end of Volume II, and we're happy to announce that we have finished writing this story! it clocked in 120,000 words. We're going to post new chapters each week now, wrap this story up with a nice little bow. Now that we're done with this, we should be able to refocus on Blessing of the Phoenix. With any luck, that one should be ready to upload soon.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Notes: We’re sorry for how late this chapter is, and you deserve to know the truth of the matter. We’ve had a falling out with Crystal – Ghost’s sister – and as a result, she’s stopped betaing our work before we post it. To be honest it’s been coming for a while, with her revisions coming closer and closer to deadline, but now she’s simply not doing it at all. That means the next chapters haven’t been checked over by her. However, that doesn’t mean our quality will drop. We, obviously, work together as we write, and that helps us catch mistakes at the second draft stage that on our own we would miss. Then, the third draft is plugged through Grammarly before you guys see it. There should be no noticeable drop in quality, but, if you catch any significant errors we’ve missed, please let us know and we’ll go back and fix them.

#  _ **Volume III - Odium's Reign** _

# Chapter 21:

_“This is the end. I have made a grave mistake in coming here, and I will be no doubt be long dead before someone reads these final few entries. I can only hope they don’t reach the outside world too late. As it is, I will be unable to save my friends and family from the Saxon invasion, and that is something I will now have to live with for eternity._

_From the Secret Diary of Merlinus Caledonensis; Earth, 537 Common Era – retrieved by Nicolas Flamel from the Vault of Dreams in 1582 Common Era._

* * *

One month later, Ginny stood on the bank of the Black Lake, staring out at the cold, still expanse. She wore a ‘wetsuit’: A piece of restrictive clothing that conformed to her body bought for her by Sammy and Nylah. The twins had retrofitted the suit, so it contained a pocket for her wand. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and, finally, three faeries sat on her shoulders.

“We must rescue Gabi,” Vel said again. His language skills had improved dramatically, and he spoke in a clipped and direct way that Ember and Mak did not. He liked certainties. Known quantities. Right now, with Gabrielle trapped on the bottom of the Lake, he was rather pissed off at the _uncertainty_ of the situation. Her best friend and her boyfriend, both stuck at the bottom of the fricken Black Lake. Just _fantastic_. At least she had the faeries to guide her.

“They’re in the centre. Just use the Fusion Force to get down there, free Harry, and this can all be over,” Mak said, clearly trying to convince herself rather than Ginny. Ember was very quiet. Had been since Harry had been taken last night. Mak and Vel had warned her what was about to happen when Harry and Gabrielle had been called to the Headmaster’s office. Ember had not taken it well. Maybe it was Ginny’s connection to Harry, which felt infinitesimally more potent since they’d spent the night together, that was setting her off.

Standing on either side of Ginny were Fleur Delacour and Victor Krum. Krum hadn’t said a word to Ginny since arriving at Hogwarts, and Fleur wasn’t exactly talking to her either, so the atmosphere on the dock was about as tense as one before a duel. They weren’t friends. They were rivals at best, enemies at worst.

**“Ladies and Gentlemen, Witches and Wizards!”** The announcer cried, **“Welcome to the Second Task!”** The man continued speaking, but Ginny didn’t listen. Instead, she was reaching out to the Six Forces. To _Imagination_ itself. It was odd, knowing that your power came from a god. Ginny had known gods. She had met Odium. Had heard the voice of Equality in her mind, a voice she now realised must have been what Harry had heard when the Dementors attacked. Now, here Ginny was. A woman with the eyes of the world on her, so different to the little girl she’d been when she first met Harry. A woman with the ability to draw power from a god.

She opened herself up, let the static surge into her veins. Her eyes began to glow, and a soft, effervescent heat filled her muscles and bones. Comforting her, wrapping around her.

A horn blasted through the air, and Ginny dove into the Black Lake.

* * *

Daphne Greengrass was not a hero. She didn’t have badass powers like Harry, Ginny and Gabrielle. She wasn’t some Professor with decades of experience. She was a student, and not a particularly fantastic one at that. But Gabrielle was on the bottom of the Black Lake, so today, being a hero fell to her.

The plan was simple enough. While Dumbledore and Flamel were distracted by the Second Task, and with Harry’s participation all but guaranteed, the pair would have no reason to believe that Harry would be up to no good. Sirius and Sammy – who somehow had become good friends – were at the Black Lake watching Flamel, and Professor McGonagall had promised to keep an eye on Dumbledore. That left Daphne making her way towards Flamel’s quarters near Dumbledore’s Office, Fred and George Weasley and Emily and James – Harry’s muggle friends – trailing behind her. Both had muggle weapons, guns they were called, but Daphne wasn’t sure what exactly they would do against a wizard alien. She had much more faith in Professors Flitwick and Lupin – who were keeping watch at the entrances.

They reached the entrance, and the twins cast a series of detection spells they’d learned from their brother Bill. The spells revealed what they’d expected, a series of wards surrounded the door, and the two brothers began the complicated process of disarming them. When Daphne questioned them on how they’d learned to disable wards, they’d quite simply said that their mother had tried time and again to stop them sneaking out of their rooms at night. She had yet to implement a ward they had been unable to fool. Daphne had to concede that the twins, as mad as they were, certainly were incredibly talented when they put their minds to it. Scarily so. She really hoped neither of them ever decided they wanted to take over the world.

Finally, Fred and George got the door open, and they snuck inside.

“Lumos,” Daphne whispered, illuminating the room. They moved inside, then stopped short. The room was empty. No furniture, no windows, no nothing.

Daphne’s heart began to thud repeatedly in her chest.

“It’s a trap,” Emily whispered. The door swung closed with a _“CLANG!”_ and the floor vanished out from under them. Daphne screamed, alongside everyone else, as they plummeted down, then slammed into a stone floor, audible cracks signalling broken bones.

A sheering pain lanced through Daphne’s knee, and she tried to reach for her wand – which she’d dropped in the fall.

Candles around the edges of the room flared to life, revealing a man with a giant silvery metal sword leaning against the wall, a look of curiosity pasted on his face. Daphne tried to rise, but her knee wouldn’t have it, and she collapsed back to the ground in a wince of pain. James jumped to his feet and fired his weapon. Flamel flicked his hand, and the bullet shot backwards, straight back at James. It took him in the chest, and Emily screamed in horror as the boy collapsed as if his strings had been cut. She pulled her own weapon and trained it on Flamel, but he simply rolled his eyes, and the gun flipped out of her hand, smacking her in the face.

“Now, if one bullet didn’t work…” he began, and Fred and George both fired spells. George was cradling his ribs with one hand, and Fred’s leg looked more crooked than Daphne’s was, but they still fought. So Daphne did too. With a snap of his wand, Flamel created a shield to deflect the stunners as Daphne retrieved her wand from where it fell, firing just after the two brothers. The first two spells weakened the barrier just enough for hers to smash through, and it struck Flamel directly in the chest. The stunner did nothing to him, he just raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Are you all quite done?” He asked in a patronising tone of voice.

Daphne, Fred and George all fired more spells. Each one was either dodged or shielded from with ease until eventually, they simply ran out of strength or ideas. Emily, meanwhile, had crawled over to James, who was breathing heavily from the bullet wound. She’d begun wrapping his injury, but the second the wizards gave up, Flamel gestured again with his hand, and she went soaring across the room, slamming into the stone wall with a scream. Daphne winced as she fell to the ground, trembling.

Then Flamel took his giant sword and rammed it through James’s head. His eyes burned in his skull, and all life fled from his form.

“Now, thieves. Tell me, where is Harry Potter hiding my splinters?”

* * *

Ginny emerged first from the Lake, Harry draped over her shoulder, trying to shake off the lingering effects of the sleeping spell. Mak was buzzing around his head, trying to push a little magic – Life Force – into him. Ginny had wanted to save Gabrielle too, but the Merfolk had forbidden her. In the end, she’d been forced to leave Vel down there with her and accelerate to the surface with just Harry. Ember was hovering above the ocean surface, but her mood hadn’t seemed to evaporate as Ginny had assumed it would.

They reached the dock as fanfare and cheering tore through the stands. Ginny cast a glance behind her as Harry began using the Decay Force to steam dry himself. Fleur’s head had burst above the water with Gabrielle. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Hagrid rushed up to them with a blanket, wrapping it around Ginny’s shoulders, but she couldn’t focus on the half-giant or his praise, she was too focussed on Sirius. He was debating with Remus and Sammy at the entrance to the dock; the werewolf must have caught them on their way down from the castle. Harry had seen it too.

Fleur and Gabrielle reached the dock, and she couldn’t help overhearing their conversation as Jacque and Eleanor came running towards them – two of Fleur’s friends behind them.

“I’m sorry,” Fleur was saying breathlessly, “I was just so angry. It was supposed to be my big year, and you stole that.”

“I get that Fleur, but it wasn’t on purpose. I helped someone who needed help, and you chose to be a bitch about it and jump to conclusions. I won’t apologise for my actions, but I am sorry that you felt betrayed. Maybe you need to stop and have a think about what really matters. Your sister, or your fame.” Gabrielle stalked away, coming to a stop beside Ginny and pulling her into a hug. When the two girls parted, Hagrid rubbing their shoulders, Harry and Sirius were standing beside them.

“Daphne and the others are missing. Flamel… he just vanished from the stands. One second he was there, the next… gone. But he didn’t apparate. Odds are, he has them.”

* * *

When Daphne came too, she was chained to the floor of the Headmaster’s office. She stayed very still, not even opening her eyes and trying to keep her breathing still. Her entire body throbbed with pain. Her leg was still twisted from the fall, and her head was ringing something fierce, but she didn’t think she had any other wounds. How long had she been unconscious?

“The plan isn’t lost Nicolas,” Dumbledore said. Daphne strained her ears, trying not to let the excitement she felt creep into her breathing. Maybe she could learn something after all.

“The Merfolk confirmed it. There are two splinters. One bound to Miss Weasley, the other to Miss Delacour. That means we have them all! We can finally do it. Heal Equality and take the power!”

“It doesn’t add up,” Flamel said. There was a rhythmic thumping coming from the floor. Someone was pacing. “The three Deathly Hallows, the Sorting Hat and the Philosopher’s Stone, that makes five of the seven. Six is Makani, the one _you_ let get away.”

“It’s not my fault,” Dumbledore interjected, “It was your machine that failed to catch her.”

“And it was you I entrusted to operate it! But it doesn’t matter now. Killing the boy should tear the bond between him and the faerie apart. Then we can imprison the splinter. Finally, the Weasley girl makes number seven. What of the Delacour girl’s splinter? Is it perhaps the released form of the Invisibility Cloak? Or has Equality deteriorated further since Merlin’s journal was released?”

“We can’t know until we get inside,” Dumbledore argued.

Flamel was silent for a moment, before seeming to agree. “We need a plan to capture Potter.”

“What did you have in mind?” Dumbledore asked.

“I’m going to kill his friends one by one until he gives up my splinters,” Flamel said. Then he made his way towards Daphne and grabbed her by the hair, yanking her upright. She couldn’t help it. She screamed at the pain. He punched her in the face, and she cut off abruptly.

“Starting with you.”

Flamel moved to punch Daphne again, but at that moment, a horrifying _‘BOOM!’ _shook the entire castle, and he dropped her to the floor in shock. The two men stared around in confusion, before Flamel cursed, grabbing one of the vials hanging from his belt. He downed one and shot through the air towards the window at the back of Dumbledore’s office, shattering through it and vanishing.

Dumbledore, panic flitting across his face, shot a stunner at Daphne, and she knew no more.

* * *

The Dark Lord Voldemort, controlling the pathetic worthless body that was Peter Pettigrew, collapsed to the ground in the Forbidden Forest, heavy breathing.

Flamel was clever, Voldemort would give him that. But ultimately, he made the same mistake all clever men made. He assumed he was the greatest mind, when that title belonged only to Lord Voldemort.

There was only one place Voldemort would hide the Philosopher’s Stone. The Room of Hidden Things. A room that did not exist. It had not been hard to find.

He reached into Pettigrew’s rags and withdrew the shinning red stone. And he grinned.


	22. Chapter 22

# Chapter 22:

_“I have passed through the Vault with no small degree of effort. Doing so has returned Marilyn’s full memory to her. These two gods, Imagination and Equality, were not trapped here. They were sheltering.”_

_From the Secret Diary of Merlinus Caledonensis; Earth, 537 Common Era_

* * *

Harry, Ginny, Gabrielle – now dressed – and everyone else standing on the banks of the Black Lake heard the rumbling from the castle, and most had glanced towards the source of the noise in time to see a massive chunk of the seventh floor explode outwards with a horrific “BANG!”

Harry cursed, pushing Daphne and the others to the back of his mind for now.

“Come on!” He shouted, then, pulling the Fusion Force into his body, he shot into the air. Mak flew up beside his face, a look of concern rippling across her blue skin. Harry understood the look. He was still a bit foggy from the sleeping enchantment, but he had a horrible twisting feeling in his gut. Something was very wrong.

“Is this it?” Mak asked as she coasted on the winds.

“I think so,” he whispered back.

He glanced behind him and was glad to see Ginny and Gabrielle flying staggered on either side of him.

“I thought we were supposed to be keeping our powers a secret!” Gabrielle called.

“Flamel has Daphne. Odds are, he already knows about you, and if he doesn’t, he would have found out by nightfall. Ginny, I need you to go into my room. In the first drawer of my desk, there’s a silver knife in a black sheath. Find it and bring it to me quickly, but whatever you do, don’t touch the blade.” She looked confused but didn’t argue, veering away towards Gryffindor Tower as Harry and Gabrielle flew through the gaping hole in the ceiling.

Black smoke hung heavy in the air, and the sounds of screams echoed along the corridors. Harry braced himself, then grabbed hold of the Division Force. He created a solid barrier of Division, then slid it along the roof like a guillotine. Any smoke that touched the barrier was sucked through, clearing the air of the room significantly. Behind him, Gabrielle closed her eyes and summoned a sphere of white light, before blasting it out around them. In the darkness on either side of them, twelve outlines of people appeared. Life signs resonating with the burst of Life Force Gabrielle had omitted.

“I’ll go left, you go, right!” She said, before charging in her chosen direction without hesitation. Harry went the opposite way. He could worry about the structural damage, or what might have caused the explosion later. Right now, the students were the most important thing. The first person he reached was a Hufflepuff girl with a bleeding gash in her leg, lying unconscious on the floor. He knelt down, Mak buzzing around his head, and held his hand over the wound. It glowed a soft white, before sealing shut, the bone resetting. Then he scooped her up in his arms, and flew back out the hole, soaring towards the Transfiguration Courtyard directly below. He dropped to the cobblestones and waved to a group of second-year students who’d been staring up at the destruction in shock and horror.

“Call Madame Pomfrey!” He yelled at them, and they seemed to snap back to their senses. Unfortunately, the courtyard was otherwise empty, everyone had left to go and watch the Trial. Damn! Two of the second years, young girls, rushed over to him, while their male companion rushed away to get the Nurse. Gabrielle landed beside him – levitating a seventh year from Ravenclaw. She placed her charge on the ground, before shooting back up into the air with Harry.

The process continued as they evacuated person after person. Fortunately, it appeared that no one was dead, but a number had quite severe burn marks. Once the people were clear – and Madame Pomfrey had arrived with Amelia Bones and Professor McGonagall – the pair flew back up to the roof, and Harry finally began examining the actual explosion.

The bizarre thing was, there wasn’t anywhere near as much damage as there should have been. Aside from the hole in the roof, there was no debris or broken masonry. In fact, the corridor walls and floor seemed unscathed. A few scorch marks, but otherwise nothing. And yet the smoke persisted, and Harry could still smell things burning. Where was it coming from?

Ginny flew into the hole, landing beside them and carefully handing Harry the knife.

“What is that?”

“Insurance. Something the Goblins made for me.” He shivered just _thinking_ about the thing, but he slipped it into his belt anyway.

Mak fluttered up beside the unscathed wall, frowning.

“There’s… something here. I’m not sure.”

“She is right,” Vel said from his perch in Gabrielle’s jacket pocket. “I sense the power of Imagination at this place.”

Ember pursed her lips, then ignoring Ginny’s protests, glided straight _through_ the solid stone wall. Ginny rushed up against it, pounding on the stone.

“Ember!”

“Wait a moment!” Came the faerie’s whispered reply. Then, the wall began to transform. A large double-sided wooden door materialised in the stone, before swinging open, revealing a very chipper looking Ember. Behind her was a room the size of an aircraft hangar, hundreds of shelves soaring from ground to roof, burning.

* * *

Sirius didn’t run towards the Seventh Floor. He figured Harry and his girls had that covered. No, instead, he ran towards the Headmaster’s Office, Sammy in tow.

During his years as a mischief-maker, Sirius had learned many things. One of which was a simple edict: “Don’t look a gift-horse in the mouth.” In this case, it translated roughly to: “Don’t waste a good distraction.”

He skidded around a corner and came face to face with the giant gargoyle. Sammy pulled the Marauders Map from her purse and handed it to him. The map had been salvaged from Flitch by the Twins, given to Remus the night he’d broken into Hogwarts, then finally retrieved by Sirius and Sammy from Remus’ office. No one was in the office upstairs. Of course, that didn’t mean a great deal, as the map couldn’t see Flamel. Possibly because he was an alien. He was still wrapping his head around that.

It didn’t really matter. Odds were good Flamel wasn’t in the office, owing to the explosion, but Sirius couldn’t count on that lasting for very long.

“Candied Apples,” he declared, reciting the password he’d gotten from McGonagall. The gargoyle moved aside, and they jumped onto the staircase as it began its spiral upwards.

“Candied apples? Really?” Sammy asked as they ran. Sirius just shrugged. The girl had finally started opening up thanks to Madame Pomfrey’s anti-imperious potions, revealing a spit-fire personality that reminded Sirius of Lily. They’d befriended one another over the past month, and found they got along great. Sirius was teaching her how to use magical pranks, and Sammy had in turn introduced him to Late Night Television. His life would never be the same.

They reached Dumbledore’s office and shoved the door open. Another thing he’d learned as a Marauder. The Headmaster never locked the door – trusting the gargoyle to deter any would-be invaders. Anyone smart enough to get past the guardian would be able to bypass the door anyway.

Sirius stepped in the room and his stomach leapt into his throat. Daphne Greengrass lay bound by chains to the floor of the room, her face a mess of bruises and her leg mangled.

“Shit,” he muttered, kneeling by her side and checking for a pulse. It was faint, but it was there. Thank Merlin he’d thought to come up here. As he did so, Sammy rushed over to Dumbledore’s desk and began rummaging through his things as they’d initially planned. Both of them had looked over any images they could find of the Resurrection Stone, and most seemed to show a small diamond cut ruby with an etching on the top.

He drew his wand and severed the chains, grabbing Daphne in his arms. She stirred, eyes fluttering open.

“Black?”

“Daphne. Do you know where the others are? What’s happened to them?”

“Don’t… I don’t know. But they _know_ about Ginny and Gabrielle. They have a plan – to steal Equality’s power.” Sirius cursed, then glanced up to Sammy. She’d paused in her rummaging, muttering to herself.

“If I were hiding something from a wizard, where would I…” she trailed off, then grabbed the bowl of candy on Dumbledore’s desk and tipped it over. A small gemstone the size of Sirius finger had been sticky-taped to the bottom.

“How the hell did you guess that?”

Sammy grabbed the stone and smiled mischievously.

“You taught me well. Wizards only ever expect magic attacks. They never expect…”

“A good old-fashioned pie in the face or water-bucket trick.” He finished.

“If I were a wizard trying to hide something from another wizard, I’d do it like a muggle. Dumbledore obviously loves sweets. Ergo…” She beamed, before throwing the stone up in the air and catching it.

Quickly, Sirius lifted Daphne and carried her out of the office, Sammy right behind him, less Dumbledore or Flamel return and find them.

* * *

Ginny followed behind Harry, Gabrielle beside her, as they advanced into the smouldering room. It was massive, how had nobody known it was here? Or, evidently, someone had known. And had blown it up. The shelves, or what remained of them, held pieces of junk mostly. Knickknacks, old books, odds and ends, things like that. They stretched across time – some things appeared to be from the last few years, others from decades before. She spotted a pocket watch with Chinese inscription and a textbook with Wakandan writing on the front. It was a literal room of odds, ends and missing things.

And all of it was on fire.

The heat and the smoke would have caused them to turn back minutes ago if not for Harry using the Division Force to erect a barrier around the trio – keeping out the fumes and most of the heat. Even with the shield, she was drenched in sweat and breathing heavier than she should be. Gabrielle was doing much the same thing.

Mak and Ember led the way forward, though what they were locked on they hadn’t said. Harry hadn’t seemed fussed by it, simply following their lead. Still, the whole situation made her skin crawl. Or maybe it was the dagger that Harry had bid her retrieve for him. What was that thing? Ember hadn’t been able to tell, and Ginny hadn’t dared take it out of the sheath to look. The only thing she was sure about, was the feeling of dread that had spread within her as she laid eyes on it.

They rounded a corner, and Mak and Ember came to a stop. Kneeling in the centre of a series of collapsed shelves, was Nicolas Flamel. His robes were singed in dozens of places, his hair standing on end, but the colours around him were far more vivid than they should have been. The red of the air was a perfect blend of gold and crimson, and the ash on his coat – despite both being black – was easily distinguishable by its hue alone. It was him. Discarded on the floor beside him was a metal box, lined with velvet, the lid torn off. It didn’t take a genius to guess what had been hidden inside.

“Flamel,” Harry said, stepping forward past the two faeries and dropping the shield, “Where’s the stone? Who took it?” Ginny called the Charge Force into her fingers, readying a lightning bolt. Beside her, Gabrielle did the same thing, raising her fingers in a semi-threatening way. Ginny honestly didn’t think there was anything they could do to stop Flamel. They had no idea what he even was, let alone the extent of what he could do. Their only hope was that he couldn’t defeat their combined strength. But, he’d obviously defeated the team sent to investigate his room, so she didn’t have much faith in that plan either.

Flamel rose to his feet, dusting off his robes. But he didn’t turn around.

“Perhaps you could tell me, Imagineer. Were your friends breaking into my rooms simply a distraction then? How did you find the stone,” he growled.

“I didn’t,” Harry said evenly, “And you’re going to release my friends, right now.”

Flamel laughed. “And why would I do that, after I went to the effort of setting up an elaborate trap for them to fall into. Dumbledore thinks you can be reasoned with. I disagree. I have travelled across countless worlds, and not once have I seen someone willingly give up that which makes them powerful.”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll kill you,” Harry said evenly. Flamel snorted.

“I highly doubt that,” he said, “Return to me the stone, or I’ll murder your friends one by one. I’ve already killed one. How many more lives should I take before you hand over what is mine?”

“Release my friends, then we’ll talk.”

It begged a serious question. If they hadn’t taken the stone, who had?

“Very well,” Flamel sighed, “You leave me with no choice. It’s a pity, Potter, I actually quite admired you.”

Flamel spun around, a dark gleam in his eyes, and the metal shelves around them began to rattle. Ginny and Gabrielle raised their fingers, lightning crackling along the tips as Flamel held out his hand to summon his misty sword. Mak, Vel and Ember all summoned their mystical armour, hissing at the man.

Harry was quicker on the draw than all of them. His hand whipped out of his robes, the silver knife flipping from his fingers, straight towards Flamel.

Flamel raised his free hand, creating a shield around himself as the shelves around him hurtled towards the trio. Ginny released the electricity in her fingers, calling to her the Fusion Force to repel the shelves, while Gabrielle shot her lightning at Flamel in a concentrated burst.

The electricity was absorbed by his shield. The knife was not.

The knife slammed point first into Flamel’s the centre of Flamel’s chest, sinking deep into the skin. Immediately, the aura of colours surrounding him winked out of existence, and the shelves lost their propulsion, collapsing. Ginny grabbed them with Fusion, casting them aside with no resistance.

Flamel’s eyes went wide, and he looked down at the dagger in his chest. He looked back up, staring at Harry. Then he sank to his knees and collapsed to the floor face first, plunging the knife even deeper. The giant silver metal sword materialised from mist in the air beside him, then fell to the stone with a soft clang.

Nicolas Flamel was dead.

* * *

Voldemort screamed, throwing the gleaming red stone at a nearby tree. Wormtail’s body lay discarded on the dirt, dying. He had brought the stone to the lair he’d set up in the Forbidden Forest and used it to create for himself the Elixir of Life. In doing so, he had uncovered the secret of its construction. There was a faerie trapped within. No wonder his attempts to recreate the object had proven for naught. Drinking from the Elixir had served its purpose – he had been restored to his physical form. Finally, he could breathe air once more. Feel the ground beneath his feet. It was glorious!

But his return had not been the moment he had dreamed. For the stone had healed only his body. Affixing his spirt back to the physical realm. It had not restored his magic.

He was a filthy MUGGLE!

All the rituals he had undergone to increase his powers! Burnt away. But the tole they had taken on his soul remained. He could not attempt them again. The risk to his already fragile form was too great.

But there was another way.

Years ago, a young boy named Tom Riddle had discovered the magnificent benefits of being a Parselmouth in Slytherin House. He had rediscovered the secrets left by Salazar Slytherin himself. Including, most importantly, the founders own private quarters. And inside was a series of instructions speaking of why the founders had built Hogwarts here, in the middle of nowhere.

Deep within the castle’s roots lay a pool of divine energy. Liquid magic. The people who had lived near this pool had absorbed its power, becoming far stronger than ordinary witches and wizards. As far as Tom had been able to discern, the last person to discover the pool had been Merlin – also a Slytherin, also a Parselmouth. Was it any wonder he was the greatest wizard to have ever lived?

Tom had found that pool – hidden by Slytherin in his Chamber of Secrets and guarded by a being only his heir could control – and had discovered something even Merlin had missed. He had discovered its true nature. The pool was a portal. A Perpendicularity. A tether connecting the physical realm to the cognitive and spiritual realms. In his last years at Hogwarts, Tom had used the Perpendicularity to travel to the mythical Valley. He had seen what remained of the faerie court, an entire civilisation of magical beings ruined by the greed of mankind. He had watched as they set sail across the sea to find other worlds.

More importantly, he had learned that faeries, like men, valued _power_ above all else. He had made a deal with one of them; a faerie of the void, a faerie of hate. In exchange for aiding in the plan of the creature’s unseen god, Tom would be granted power and protection from death itself. But Voldemort served no master, and once he had bled the faerie dry of knowledge, he had used a copy of himself – a Diary – to trap the faerie in the physical world where it could not call for aid.

He had learned much from that faerie. How to channel magic beyond his wildest dreams. Enchantment was fuelled by balance. By Equality. But Equality was a pathetic notion. It was no wonder such a god had been killed. Now, balance served him. He had learned to predict the shifting of the axial tilt, learned how to control faerie blooded creatures. Each species leaned towards a specific intent. The more unstable the intent, the easier it was to control them. House Elves, born of Devotion, were easy to subdue, as were the Dementors, faeries that leaned towards Ruin. His greatest regret had been his inability to control the Goblins. But Preservation was too ingrained within them. He could still manipulate them, however. Trusting their urge to preserve their wealth over any anger they might feel towards an action of his. The Veela, orientated towards Endowment, were so pathetic it was irrelevant.

Yes, there was another way. The pool – the Perpendicularity – was magic concentrated in a liquid form. If he could get to it, he could use its power to restore his magic. Then, there would be nothing, no one, to stop him.


	23. Chapter 23

# Chapter 23:

_“The third power I could feel from outside. It is a taint. A darkness. Fortunately, its creator appears to have moved on. But the damage it did remains. Equality, the Goddess of Enchantment, is dying. Imagination, God of Design, is trying to save her, but doing so appears to have left him vulnerable. Time… does not seem to pass here. Imagination, or as he calls himself, Ourans, was aware of my presence immediately, but seemed shocked when I told him the year.”_

_From the Secret Diary of Merlinus Caledonensis; Earth, 537 Common Era_

* * *

Gabrielle knelt beside Flamel’s corpse and rolled it over, a sense of shock permeating her entire body. Surely, it couldn’t be that easy? She felt at his neck. No pulse.

Harry knelt down beside her and grabbed the hilt of the knife, pulling it free. The blade dripped with blood, some of it getting on his hands.

“What is that thing?” Ginny whispered.

“I asked the Goblins to make it for me. A knife, with an aluminium blade.”

Gabrielle gasped. “Aluminium. It cancels out our powers.”

“Not just ours. When we first met, Dumbledore told me that people like us from across the universe had a common weakness. Aluminium. A secret no doubt told to Dumbledore by Flamel himself. It was a safe bet it would work against other magics as well. The Goblins, they were really unsettled when I asked them to make this.” He lifted the knife, then discarded it. “They knew what it would do before I even explained why I wanted it. A spike made of Aluminium, once charged they said, could be used to take away any magical powers a person possessed. Regardless of where they got them.” He grabbed Flamel’s belt and pulled free the potion vials. “I have no idea what these are supposed to be.” He threw them away. Finally, being sure to stay clear of the sword, he grabbed the knife at Flamel’s waist.

“The Goblins said the knife would only work once before being recharged. I have no idea what that means, and I don’t think I want to find out.”

A series of footsteps echoed through the room, and Dumbledore appeared, flanked by Professors Flitwick and Snape.

“Harry! What happened?!” He demanded. Harry cursed under his breath, then returned Flamel’s knife to his belt. Gabrielle spun on Dumbledore and started talking out of her ass.

“We came searching to make sure no-one was hurt Professor,” she said, “We evacuated the wounded students, then we came in here to find the source of the explosion. We just found Mister Flamel. He’s dead.” Harry climbed over Flamel’s corpse to avoid going near the sword and grabbed the open metal box.

“The Philosopher’s Stone is gone,” Harry said, holding up the box and turning to Dumbledore. “Who would be smart enough to find it, powerful enough to beat the wards protecting it without help, and have the motive to steal it in the first place?” Dumbledore paled.

“Who!” Harry demanded, and Dumbledore actually flinched.

“There could be only one, but he’s dead. Has been for fourteen years.”

“Who Albus?” Flitwick asked, gripping his wand tightly in his hand. Dumbledore turned to Snape, then froze. His gaze had locked onto Harry’s hands. Ones flecked with blood from the knife.

In an instant, he’d whipped out his wand and fired a dozen spells at Harry before Gabrielle could even blink. Harry shoved her and Ginny aside with the Fusion Force and dodged each spell, before casting a lance of Decay Force back at Dumbledore. Flitwick dove out of the way and Snape was sent careening by Dumbledore as he dispersed the black energy. Gabrielle crashed into a shelf, hitting her head on the ground. She shook her head rapidly, rising to her feet as quickly as she could.

Harry and Dumbledore fought like a storm. Spell after spell shot between them as they dodged, shielded and flipped amongst the flames and debris, ash falling from the roof. She didn’t dare try to intervene, lest she accidentally hurt Harry, or worse, distract him and leave Dumbledore an opening.

Harry absorbed three rapid fire stunning spells by raising up a section of the floor, then he punched through the stone and sent the fragments hurtling towards the Headmaster. Dumbledore dispersed the pieces as Harry launched himself forward with Fusion, Mak a blur beside him. A piece of metal shelving flew into Harry’s hands, and he brought it down towards Dumbledore’s head. The Headmaster barely sidestepped, transforming his wand into a longsword to deflect the shard of metal. Harry parried twice, then kicked Dumbledore in the leg and swung with his fist – electricity crackling across his knuckles – into Dumbledore’s side. He took the blow hard, jerking under the assault, and Harry pressed his advantage. He blasted Dumbledore with the black heat of Decay, shooting the old man backwards into another shelf. Harry glided forward, decreasing friction with the Strength Force, but Dumbledore recovered quickly, shooting Harry with a purple spell. It struck him in the chest, and giant ethereal chains formed from the air clamping around him. Harry screamed, flying backwards and hitting the floor. Then his body began to glow with white light, before releasing a burst of energy – Life Force – that rolled across the room.

And as it did, Gabrielle’s vision shifted for a moment.

No longer were they in a room filed with metal and flames. Instead they stood in an endless sea of mud and slime beneath a cold, distant sun. In the distance, a beam of light, refracting all colours of the rainbow, soared into the sky. Vel stood beside her, human sized and proud. On the other side of the battlefield she spotted Ember – a woman with ash white skin and flames for hair – standing beside Ginny, who looked as speechless as Gabrielle did. She could see Professor Flitwick as well, a diminutive figure that reflected an inner slight silver. Snape… Snape just looked like a shadow, obscured and hard to define.

But _Harry._ He _shone_ with a bright silver energy. A tether of liquid power connected him to Makani, who floated behind him as a silver and blue figure with great wings spanning ten feet in either direction. As Harry drew on his tether to her, she pulled more and more magic from the very air around them, and the mud around Harry’s feet was repulsed away from him like a wave. The mud… it was obscuring a majestic blue sea.

Dumbledore glowed slightly too, but his body refracted a soft rainbow light, rather than the magnificence of Harry’s energy.

There was one other person visible on this side. A man with skin of red and black – purple smoke billowing around his form.

Gabrielle blinked, and the vision dissipated. But this time she _remembered_. She remembered seeing into that other place before, when she’d used her allure on Ginny. The dreams she’d been having were real. And that other creature. She _wasn’t _hallucinating. There really was another faerie following her. Only it had seemed distracted by the fight, just as they were. Could she use that?

Gabrielle tore her eyes away from Harry as the chains shattered and he slung an entire shelf at Dumbledore, who deflected it into the roof. There! A shadow that was absorbing the light around it, hovering just above the ground beneath one of the toppled shelves near Snape’s crouched form.

Gabrielle coughed as ash filled her lungs, and she tried to repeat Harry’s trick with the Division bubble. Whether she was doing it wrong, or her concentration was just off she wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t recreate it. Instead she just ran.

“We must find this void-faerie,” Vel declared, “It is fuelled by hatred. By the fight itself.”

Gabrielle understood. Whenever she’d tried to face this creature, it had instilled her with a panic, a self-hatred that had warped her mind. She would not allow it to happen again. If it was feeding off the conflict, she had to kill it now before it gained strength.

She skirted around the duel, ducking several times to avoid stray spells, pieces of shelving, or even at one point a giant elephant plushie, but eventually she approached the back of the shelving where the void-faerie hid. That’s when Snape grabbed her around the mouth and lifted her off the ground.

“I don’t think so, Veela cunt,” he hissed.

“Suck on this you greasy haired motherfucker,” Ginny exclaimed. She jumped onto Snape’s back and grabbed him by the head. Then she pumped a current of electricity straight through his brain.

Snape’s hair electrified, sparking on end as his eyes turned bloodshot. He dropped Gabrielle, spasming as his hair caught on fire. He fell to the floor with a muted thud.

“Thanks,” she breathed.

“That’s what sisters do right?” Ginny asked, smiling softly.

“Yeah,” Gabrielle said, smiling in turn. “It’s what _real _sisters do.”

An explosion rocked the room, and the girls spun back to the action as a rogue spell struck the roof. The stonework caved in, exposing the sun high above. The shards of rock froze in the air, and half of them transfigured into bubbles. The other half forged into razor sharp spikes, then rained down towards Harry. He used the Fusion Force to knock them away, scattering the metal across the room, but Dumbledore used the distraction to break Harry’s defence, sending him crashing backwards.

“What’s the plan?” Ginny asked.

“We kill that void-faerie,” she hissed, “the one that’s been haunting me these last few months.

Ginny’s eyes went wide. “It’s still alive?” she said incredulously.

Gabrielle nodded, and Ginny’s face hardened.

“How do you kill a faerie?”

“_You_ can’t,” Ember said, floating beside Vel in Gabrielle’s pocket, “But we can.” Ember grabbed Vel’s hand and zoomed straight towards the fallen shelf where the void-faerie hid.

* * *

Harry flew backwards under Dumbledore’s onslaught, crashing into the ground. He summoned a wall of Division and braced all his energy against it. Above his head, three powers crashed against one another. Each was a ray of light – a figment of energy. He could see Ember, a splinter of red and white. Vel was the light of green and brown. But where had the purple and black faerie come from, and why were they fighting it?

“It is a faerie of Odium. Drawn here by the hatred of your battle,” Mak explained. He could see her as a diminutive girl with blue skin and blonde hair fluttering on insect like wings in the air. But he could also see Mak as an angel in silver raiment standing beside him, bleeding power. He didn’t question it. To him, Mak had always been an angel. His angel. The light that came to him when the night was darkest. She was his magic. His heart.

“Should you be helping them?”

“My essence is too fixed here with you. To do so would be to divert much of your strength. It is up to Ember and Vel to stop it.”

“Can they do that? Kill one of their own kind?”

“We are not bound by such rigid tenants as Honour or Preservation. Imagination is the power of belief. It can act to Cultivate, Preserve or Ruin. All abstract is born of Imagination, and so we have the freedom to choose our nature. I trust they will make the right choice.” Harry had to trust that they would too.

He turned his attention back to Dumbledore, who was blasting a wall of electricity at him from all angles. It was taking all his power to keep the Division shield up, and Dumbledore knew it. If he tried to use another force, the shield _would_ break. He was trapped.

“You can’t beat me Harry,” Dumbledore said, bearing down on him. He was bleeding from dozens of wounds, but he remained on his feet. Not bad. Most evil old white men Harry had known were all bark and no bite.

“Give this up, surrender the Stone and help me take up the power of Equality and save the world.”

Yeah… Harry didn’t think that would end too well for him somehow.

He closed his eyes, questing out for anything. Begging, calling to Imagination, to anyone who might be listening, for any help he could gain. Nothing answered. There was only the clashing of the faeries above him, and a dull whimpering…

Whimpering?

Harry’s gaze snapped up at the same time Mak’s did. Dumbledore’s wand. The Elder Wand. It was powered by a faerie. That was why he was so powerful. Dumbledore was effectively cheating. That meant… that meant Dumbledore must be using Imagination’s power to fuel his Enchantment instead of Equality’s fractured essence like the rest of the wizarding world. He was effectively _bypassing_ Equality to draw magic from Imagination instead, bastardising the system. But what had Harry spent the last _year_ learning? You couldn’t use Enchantment and Design at the same time.

“Give up!”

“The day may come, when the courage of men fails,” Harry hissed, inwardly laughing at his ability to come up with a Lord of the Rings reference in the middle of a battle to the death, “When we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship.” Harry eased his wand – apple wood, with a faerie blood core – from the pocket of his robes and closed his eyes.

“But it is not this day,” he whispered, “This day we fight!”

“Thrilling speech,” Dumbledore said sourly, leaning over Harry’s cracking shield.

“It wasn’t meant for you.” Dumbledore hesitated. In Harry’s mind, the whimpering turned to a pain filled scream. And for a split second, Dumbledore’s attack faltered. Harry released the shield of Division and aimed his wand instead.

“Expelliarmus!” The Elder Wand jerked out of Dumbledore’s hand and flew into Harry’s. Then Harry summoned the Strength Force and _punched_ a shocked Dumbledore right in the chest.

He howled, flying across the room and crashing into a wardrobe. In his mind, the faerie bound to the Elder Wand, sighed in relief.

Overhead, the three lights collided one final time, then exploded outwards in a shower of sparks. Ember reformed, holding Vel by the arm. The purple faerie solidified into a man with black hair falling in slow motion, trailing purple mist. Ember dropped Vel, who was quickly caught by Gabrielle, then charged forward. She summoned her ethereal blade, and slammed it through the faerie’s chest.

“That’s for breaking my Ginny.” The void-faerie shrieked, before exploding into golden dust. Ginny stepped out of the rubble, and Ember floated down to her. Then she pulled the faerie close, cradling it to her chest. Harry glanced to Mak – he could no longer see her angelic form – and she nodded softly.

There was no bond more sacred than that between human and faerie. Love was a phenomenal and unpredictable power it was true. But Harry and Mak? Ginny and Ember? They shared souls.

* * *

## Two years ago…

Walking through two worlds, Ginny forged her way through darkness. She’d opened the passage into the Chamber by speaking some words she didn’t understand and jumped into the hole in the mud. Now she was in the cave on both sides, using the beam as her guide. It was far easier to move when the two worlds matched one another. She didn’t understand what she was seeing. Her thoughts were… clearer now. The closer she got to the beam, the more her memories aligned themselves.

_Perpendicularity_.

What _was _a Perpendicularity? The beam? It was the only thing that made sense. What was the other place she could see? Myrtle had called it the Valley, but Ginny knew it by another name. The Expanse of Delusions. It seemed a fitting description, given what was happening to her. Whatever it was, it was a world of spirits, and Ginny was straddling the barrier between them – thanks to Tom.

A cursed Diary! How had she not seen that?! How many times had her father told her not to trust something if she couldn’t see where it kept its brain? She couldn’t blame herself. Not really. There must be some sort of spell on it to prevent the user from being aware of what they were doing. At least she understood _why_ these changes had been warping her. Hopefully, with Tom gone, she’d go back to normal.

_That won’t bring back Hermione, or Justin, and it won’t wake up the petrified children._

Dumbledore had ordered the school evacuated; she’d heard his voice over the magical loudspeaker before she entered the cave. Good. Whatever she unleashed down here, at least only she would be the one to die. She didn’t care. She wouldn’t leave this place until she was free, or she was dead. She wouldn’t go back to the _oblivion_ of not knowing during the day and the nightmares of awareness at night. Tom, and that golden-spirit, would not win.

She arrived at a doorway carved with snakes on the physical side. On the spirit side, there was a just a hole. Beyond was the beam.

She spoke the same words as before, and the snake covered door swung open for her. She climbed through, then stepped down on the other side.

The worlds _merged._

She was in a chamber of some kind, a raised platform of smooth black tile running down the centre. Between it and the walls on either side were two fountain pools of water. Statues of snakes lined the walls. But she could also see, hanging like an overlay on the real world, the place of spirits. The mud correlated directly to the solid ground. The water, however, was a dull coloured rock, covered in slime. Mud slid down the walls in globs.

At the end of the corridor, in a large atrium dominated by a giant statue head she recognised as Salazar Slytherin, was a pool. Bordered by a raised layer of the same black stone, the pool was perfectly circular, and seemed to be made of a reflective liquid that glowed with all colours at the same time. It was completely still. On the other side, Ginny could see the beam shooting up out of the pool, rising through the mud roof. It would emerge above from the stone island. The Black Lake, she now realised.

She advanced forward, Diary in hand, passing snake after snake statue, until she came up to the very edge of the pool. Something, made of a silvery metal, had been stabbed through the dead centre of the pool. Occasionally, a small bubble would burst around it. At its peak was a gemstone filled with shimmering purple light.

“I suppose congratulations are in order, Ginny Weasley.” She spun around, wand in her right hand, diary in her left, and found herself face to face with the golden-spirit.

“Who are you spirit? Why are you doing this to me?”

The man gave her that sweet pitying smile.

“I am Odium.”

_Odium._ The very word was enough to send a shiver down her spine.

“Hatred. Divine Wrath,” she murmured.

“A crude, if accurate description,” he said, walking up beside her and staring into the pool, “As for why, I am not doing anything to you my dear. I am… bound you see. My power is locked away. Imprisoned, upon the spit of cursed rock that is Braize. You should count yourself fortunate that I am. If I was free… I would not have to resort to such underhanded and weak efforts to get what I want.”

_IMPRISONED YOU REMAIN, ODIUM. RETURN TO DAMNATION AND TROUBLE MY WORLD NO MORE._

It was the majestic voice, the echoing one from before.

Odium merely grinned, continuing to stare at the pool.

“Equality. A pathetic notion. It’s no wonder I killed her so easily,” he said softly.

_I AM NOT AS DEAD AS YOU WOULD LIKE RAYSE. YOUR HORRENDOUS ACTS AGAINST DEVOTION AND DOMINION WILL NOT REPEAT THEMSELVES HERE. BEGONE._

Odium laughed softly.

“As you wish,” he whispered, “Tell Harmony I said hello.” He turned to Ginny, and she looked into the spirits eyes. They were like whirlpools, deep, dark wells of horrific and terrifying power. This… this was not Odium. It was merely the mask he allowed her to see.

“I don’t say this often, Daughter of Equality. But well done.” Then he vanished.

Ginny, heart pounding, turned back to the pool.

“Equality?” She asked, trying desperately to understand what was happening.

_I AM HERE FOR BUT A MOMENT, DAUGHTER. I CANNOT HELP YOU FOR WHAT COMES NEXT. BE STRONG._

“Next? What comes next? That wasn’t it?” The voice did not answer. She glanced down to the book in her hand.

The pool _exploded_, and Ginny flew backwards with a scream. The rainbow liquid surged outwards, before being sucked back into the pit. A hand was holding onto the black stone. Another hand appeared, and the Diary in Ginny’s hand began to steam. She dropped it, kicking it away from her. The book flipped open, and a purple light, wreathed in shadow, shot out from the pages. The light buzzed around in the air for a moment, before resolving into a tiny figure with black hair, emitting shadow instead of light. It stood on a cloud of purple darkness. A faerie. A head burst free from the pool. Black hair, dark eyes, pale skin. Tom.

“Get her!” The faerie transformed back into light and shot into Ginny’s chest.

Pain lanced through her entire body, pouring flame through her very being. Indescribable _hate_ and _anger_. She felt it all. Tom… his hatred of being trapped in a book, his hatred of her and her stupid writing, his hatred of others, his hatred of love and faith, and, above all, his hatred of himself. It was overwhelming. She screamed her lungs out, scratching at her chest in agony.

“OUT OUT OUT OUT!!!!!!”

“There is no escape Ginny Weasley! You gave yourself to me! You hated yourself so much that I was able to fill the cracks. Poor Ginny Weasley, too scared to stand up for herself. Too cowardly to go for help. Too stupid to stop. So inexplicably dumb that she trusted an enchanted diary she found amongst her things without even questioning it! You’re mine Ginny. You’re worthless. Hopeless.”

She understood then, as the pain tore her apart, what had happened. Tom had fed upon her fear, using it to draw her into confiding in him and the Diary. Then he’d turned that fear into self-loathing, driving her into herself more and more. The more she feared others, the more she feared herself, and the more she hated herself for being weak. And on and on it went. The perfect prison.

She felt herself slipping away, folding into the pain. Unconsciousness, now, meant death. Or something far worse. And yet, the last rational part of her mind thought, she had seen through the prison. She had fought back. Why? How?

Odium. He had _left._ Why would he leave… unless he’d _given up._

What did Ginny have that could fight against a hate as strong as Tom’s? As strong as her own? Nothing. She had nothing. This was all her fault… and that was when it hit her.

Somewhere, distant, an echo of a voice entered her mind. ‘_Take thy hand!’_

Her self-hatred. Her loathing. It all came from one thing – her fear and hate of being unable to help. Of being unable to stop. Her hatred of being weak…

_“Stretch forth thy hand, Ginevra!” _

It _was _her fault. She had opened the Diary. She had written to Tom. She had trusted him, and in doing so, let him inside. Tainting her. She had done those things, there was no point in denying it. What mattered was how she had fought back. She’d fought against Tom. She’d resisted him. The people who’d been petrified; she’d saved them. Justin and Hermione’s deaths were on her. She should have been better, stronger. But she’d tried. She’d fought. And in her moment of clarity, she’d taken up the burden one more time, and she’d come down into this hellscape of her own free will. Searching for Freedom.

_“Reach!”_

Ginny screamed her throat raw and threw her hand out before her. A bright silver light flooded her mind, washing away the pain, then she was back in the Chamber.

She staggered forward, collapsing on the cold stone. The purple faerie lay near the pool, disorientated, but not dead. Tom had risen entirely from the pool, but he appeared faded, not truly there.

Ginny dashed for the Diary, lying open on the stones. Tom dove for it too, but he phased through it. He was still too attached to the other side – the spirit side. Whatever that purple faerie had done to her, it hadn’t worked properly. She’d managed to reject it. The faerie jumped up into the air with a hiss, then zoomed towards Ginny again. The air in front of her coalesced from silver mist, transforming into another faerie, with black hair and ash white skin. The two faeries collided with one another, dissolving into tiny flashes of light. For a fraction of a second, she could see a man with red and black skin and a woman in an elegant black gown with flames for hair – the faeries in their true forms, their forms from the Valley – battling on the other side.

She grabbed the Diary, then, charging _through_ Tom as he fumed and tried to grab her, she threw the Diary at the contraption in the centre of the pool. It hit the machine, toppling it and the gemstone into the liquid. The gemstone sunk instantly, but the metal remained. The Diary… the Diary burst into flames.

“NOOOO!” Tom cried. Ginny spun back just in time to watch as his essence faded away from the physical world, returning, permanently, to the spirit realm where it belonged. The two faeries separated, and the purple one screamed in anguish, then vanished in a puff of shadow. The ash like faerie floated down beside Ginny’s face. Together, they watched as the Diary was slowly absorbed into the pool. There was a shock of light from the beam on the other side, and for a moment, the mud vanished, replaced by tranquil waters, stone turned to grass. The mud returned quickly though, and, with a sigh of fatigue, Ginny blinked one last time. When she opened her eyes, the spirit world was gone.

Ginny shook her head several times, sinking to the floor beside the pool. What the hell had _that_ been? Faeries, a cursed Diary, ancient spirit-gods? The faerie in front of her reached out a tiny hand, and bopped her on the nose. She giggled softly, then floated down to the floor, curled up, and went to sleep. Ginny, her whole body groaning in dull pain, laid down on the stones, and followed suit.

* * *

Harry forced Dumbledore to take them to where his friends were being held prisoner. He refused at first. Then Harry had summoned the Decay force and stepped on the Headmaster’s left hand, burning it to a crisp.

He acquiesced rather quickly after that. They finally fled the Room of Lost Things, meeting up with Flitwick – who had retrieved Flamel’s body and his giant sword, though he held the latter with a gloved hand and winced when he moved it. Harry finally retrieved Flamel’s knife, stowing it carefully within his robes. Snape – who it seemed was barely alive, though he was now bald for some reason – had also been dragged out. As they moved through the castle, holding Dumbledore at wand point, Sirius, Sammy and Remus found them and related the discovery of Daphne in the Headmaster’s Office. She was in the hospital wing under the care of Madame Pomfrey now, Astoria at her side, and her mother and father were on their way. Harry breathed a sigh of relief at that.

Flitwick broke away to hide Flamel’s corpse and his giant sword, and Harry, Ginny and Gabrielle were immediately relieved by its absence.

Dumbledore eventually led them down to the deepest floor of the dungeons. There, in the darkest, filthiest corner of the castle, he pressed his hand to the wall and whispered an incantation. The wall slid aside, revealing a clean passageway just like the rest of the castle above. Harry guessed they were under the Black Lake. Even the Marauders hadn’t known this place existed, judging by Sirius whispering to Remus that they’d need to add the hidden floor to the Marauders Map.

They passed numerous cell like rooms, Mak flying inside to check each one. She reported only one room in the corridor with an occupant. A woman, sitting on a camp bed, rocking back and forth, muttering in a language Mak didn’t understand. Harry decided to bring Madame Pomfrey down here later to help her.

Ginny wrenched open the door to the cell his friends were trapped, and Fred and George fired stunners out the opening. Dumbledore took both in the face, then collapsed.

“Nice,” Harry remarked.

“My god Harry!” Fred exclaimed, rushing out into the hallway, then, spotting Ginny, pulled her into a hug. Harry continued into the cell, and Emily slammed into him, balling her eyes out. All three of them looked worse for wear, George was cradling his ribs and Emily had dry blood crusted on her blouse, but there were no serious injuries that he could see.

“What happened?”

“He _killed _James,” Emily sobbed, so Harry just held her. He kicked Dumbledore for good measure.

“It’s alright, Flamel’s dead. I killed him. He can’t hurt anyone ever again.”

Emily continued crying for a long time, until footsteps came rushing down the corridor behind them. Emily pulled away from Harry, rubbing her eyes, and he turned around to see McGonagall, Nylah and _Fleur_ approaching.

“Potter, you’re not going to believe this,” McGonagall said, hair a mess. “Miss Delacour and several others reported seeing a man sneak into the castle during the chaos. A man with a bald head, pale skin and red eyes. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they were describing…”

She didn’t say the name, but she didn’t need to. There was only one person who could fit that description. And at that second, Harry realised who had stolen the Philosopher’s Stone. He glanced at Ginny, who looked pale as a sheet.

“Voldemort’s back.”


	24. Chapter 24

# Chapter 24:

_The dark power – Ourans calls it Odium – wounded Equality, but Imagination arrived too late, and some of her power, in the form of splinters, escaped before he could restore her. Without it all, he cannot save her, and she continues to weaken. I believe this is the cause of the axial tilt. There is no other explanation I can come up with, and I fear – with her current state – that inequality will continue to spread.”_

_From the Secret Diary of Merlinus Caledonensis; Earth, 537 Common Era_

* * *

Harry grabbed Dumbledore and slammed him into the wall. The Headmaster stirred, then tried to reach for a wand that wasn’t there. Fred released Ginny, standing beside his brother and pointing his wand at Dumbledore.

Voldemort? How could he be back?! She supposed that was easy. The Elixir of Life. The more important question was how was he still alive in the first place.

“How is my parents’ killer still alive!” Harry yelled at Dumbledore. He raised his free hand up beside his head, and it burst into flame. Dumbledore shook his head, scanning the hallway, marking everyone’s positions. Not good. Ginny called the Charge Force into her veins. She would not be caught unaware this time.

“Speak!”

Dumbledore eyed Harry, then sighed.

“Voldemort tried to kill you when you a baby. But your mother cast herself in front of the spell, dying in your place. When Voldemort tried to use the Killing Curse against you after she was dead, the magic from her sacrifice caused his curse to rebound. He _should _have died. But Tom had been experimenting with magic for a very long time. He knew things even I do not, though I don’t know where he got this information.”

“Not answering the question,” Harry growled.

“I’m getting there. Enchantment is of Equality, as you know. But Equality is a power of balance. For every action, there is a reaction. At least, there _should_ be, if the power hadn’t been splintered. It’s why we use wands to mitigate the backlash. Like recoil from a gun. Wandless magic is incredibly difficult for precisely that reason. But ritualistic magics like those Tom Riddle performed on himself? The price of that magic is high. It mutilates the soul. The Killing Curse is a spell that separates the soul from the body. Tom’s soul was so broken by the time the curse struck him that it malfunctioned. Voldemort’s essence was splintered and scattered – trapped in the Valley, the Cognitive Realm. He was effectively dead. So that was what I told everyone had happened.”

“You lying son of a bitch,” Sirius hissed.

“How has he rebuilt himself?” McGonagall demanded.

“His spirit web must have reformed over time,” Dumbledore suggested, shrugging, “I honestly don’t…” He locked eyes with Harry. “Of course. I should have guessed that.”

“Guessed what?” Ginny said, stepping forward, trying very hard not to let her body start shaking.

Dumbledore started laughing, and Harry blasted the wall beside the Professor’s face.

“Answer the question!”

“You!” Dumbledore exclaimed, still laughing, “How clever. The scar on your face. It was created by one of the splinters of Tom’s spirit. Dead and dormant. Clinging to your own spirit web like a leach. It was partly why I hid you away at the Dursleys. To keep an eye on it. But something happened I could not foresee.”

“Me,” Mak whispered.

“Precisely. Remember what happened when I tried to tag you with the Trace?”

Harry clenched his jaw. “You almost tore our bond away. Yes, I _remember_.”

“The Trace is of _Equality._ It reacted with your bond to Makani because she is of _Imagination._”

Harry closed his eyes.

“Mak bonding to me shocked the piece of Voldemort’s soul free,” he realised.

“And gave it the charge of magic needed to begin rebuilding itself. In a way, it’s all your fault.”

Harry punched Dumbledore in the face, breaking his nose.

“What was your plan for Equality? Why did you want the faeries?”

Dumbledore looked to Mak’s fluttering form and grinned.

“Splinters.”

“Daphne mentioned that you wanted Splinters. What are they?” Sirius asked, standing with Sammy and Remus beside Fred and George, fists clenched.

“Us,” Ember muttered.

Dumbledore huffed. “All the faeries on Earth were banished when the Pact of Truth was put in place, bound to the Heart-Stone. And yet, here your creatures are. Haven’t you wondered what was so special about them? Why they could cross, and no others could?”

Ginny _had_ wondered. But Ember couldn’t remember, so she had simply stopped worrying about it.

“What are they?”

“When Equality was splintered by Odium, he detonated her power across the planet, creating Witches and Wizards and seeding the world with her Investiture, her magic. But Imagination arrived before Odium could finish the job. Weakened by his fight with Equality, Odium was forced to flee, and Imagination gathered Equality’s essence and built himself a shelter so he could heal her.”

“The Vault of Dreams,” Harry said.

“Precisely. But he wasn’t fast enough. Pieces of that essence escaped his grip. At first, they were caught by the Vault, but over thousands of years they escaped anyway. Ironically, it’s the same basic principle as Voldemort’s death, just on a much grander scale.”

“That still doesn’t explain what it has to do with the faeries,” Emily said, staring daggers at Dumbledore.

“Hogs, The Sorting Hat, was the first. How he spotted that broken piece of cosmic power as it escaped into the world I don’t know. But he did spot it, and he grabbed hold – fusing with it. He came to the founders, trying to figure out what he had done. His power drew them here to Hogwarts, where they found the Perpendicularity. They built the school atop it, and Hogs bound himself to the castle – fuelling the wards with that splinter of infinity.”

“And the same thing happened to the other splinters?” Remus asked, brow furrowed. Ginny glanced to Fleur, whose gaze was flickering between everyone in utter confusion.

“Nicolas captured the third splinter and the faerie that bonded to it, using them to create the Philosophers Stone. The Peverell Brothers…” Vel hissed at the name. “… captured the fourth, fifth and sixth pieces, forging from them the Deathly Hallows.”

“What about the second?”

“Marilyn. The faerie companion of Merlinus Caledonensis. It is thanks to Merlin that I know _any_ of this.”

McGonagall facepalmed. “The final year of Merlin’s journal. Before he went missing. He wasn’t under a curse at all was he?”

“I believe not,” Dumbledore said, “He found the Vault and travelled inside, where he was lost to history. Until Nicolas tracked down the Vault himself and found that Merlin had left a _second_ journal behind, bidding the finder to gather the splinters of Equality and return them to the Vault.”

“And you were going to do it to what? Claim the power for yourself?” George asked, rolling his eyes. Dumbledore ignored him.

“Merlin’s journal mentions _eight_ splinters. We had five, and one had already been returned. That left two more.”

“It was _you_,” Mak scowled, face darkening, “you were the one who tried to capture me.”

“You shouldn’t have interfered. You ruined centuries of careful planning,” Dumbledore said, anger showing on his blood-covered face.

“And I made eight,” Ember said.

“You were the one we missed. I was so busy trying to find the Chamber of bloody Secrets to rescue this foolish twit,” he gestured to Ginny, “that I _missed_ your capture of the final piece…” This time Ginny punched the old codger. A bright purple bruise had started to form around his eye, and blood was dripping from his nose and his lip.

McGonagall pushed Harry out of the way, and he almost fried the woman.

“I’ve heard enough,” she said, voice trembling, “I Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress do hereby invoke the Right of Authority in response to these horrific acts done by a man I once called a friend.” The castle trembled, and Dumbledore winced at the same time McGonagall gasped, grabbing her head and stumbling back. Harry immediately shoved Dumbledore back into the wall again, while Remus and Nylah helped McGonagall.

“What did you do?” Remus asked.

“I took emergency control of the wards,” the elderly woman stated, blinking several times. “It is a lot to process.”

“You can _do_ that?” Sirius exclaimed, flabbergasted.

“In emergencies,” she replied, “It will last for a week. Enough time for the board to be gathered and evidence presented. It is a last resort method.” She shook her head again, trying to clear it.

Harry had ignored them all. He placed a finger to Dumbledore’s forehead, electricity crackling along it.

“The only reason I don’t kill you now is because I still need your ass. Why would Voldemort come back to the castle? He has the stone, why didn’t he just flee?” Dumbledore didn’t answer at first, though whether that was because he probably had a concussion or was thinking about the question, Ginny wasn’t sure.

“I can think of only one reason,” he said eventually, “the Perpendicularity.”

Ginny grabbed the wall for support. She probably should have guessed that.

“He’s heading for the Chamber of Secrets.”

* * *

Harry threw Dumbledore into one of the cells, stunned him five times, then destroyed the door and sealed the opening.

That done, he turned to Ginny, who had about as much colour in her skin as a piece of blank paper.

“I hate to ask, but I need you to get me into the Chamber.” She shivered at the word, but, to her credit, she didn’t freeze up or complain. She simply took off down the corridor back towards the castle. Harry followed her, the others behind him.

“Professor McGonagall, Nylah, Remus; evacuate the school,” he said, making a list and counting down each task in his head, “then call for Amelia Bones and get every single Auror she’s got here as fast as possible. Even that Kingsley fellow. If we can’t keep Voldemort bottled up, maybe we can overwhelm him with sheer numbers before he has a chance to escape. Sammy?”

“Yes?” the red-head asked, pushing forward. Harry withdrew Dumbledore’s wand from his cloak and handed it to her.

“I can’t risk Voldemort getting this. Take Fleur as magical protection and go straight to Sirius home. Grab Hogs and use the Floo to return to London. Then go straight to the Bunker. You need to get those faeries as far away from Hogwarts as you can, as fast as you can.” She nodded, but Fleur gritted her teeth, so Harry turned on her.

“Can I trust you?” She paused, eyes flicking towards Gabrielle. Then she turned back to Harry and nodded.

“I will protect your friend. You ‘av my word.”

“Good. Fred, George, Emily, come here.”

The group stopped at the exit from the dungeons and Harry placed his hands on George’s chest.

“Um, thanks, Harry? But I kind of steer my ship straight…” Harry’s hands blazed with white light, and George gasped as his wounds healed. He repeated the process with Fred and Emily, who both nodded their thanks. Professor McGonagall and Remus ran off in opposite directions, Sammy and Fleur not far behind them. As they did, Flitwick returned, sans corpse and sword, looking bewildered.

“What’s happening?”

“Voldemort stole the Philosophers Stone and is going to try to use the Perpendicularity beneath the castle to restore his powers,” Gabrielle explained blandly. To his credit, Flitwick took that in stride.

“Well okay then.”

“Hey Sirius,”

“Yeah boss?” Harry couldn’t help but smile a little at that.

“Still want revenge?”

“You bet your ass.”

“Good. You and Professor Flitwick are with us.”

Ginny led the team to a girl’s bathroom on the second floor, where they were greeted by a ghost. Harry assumed there wasn’t usually a giant hole in the ground where the sinks were supposed to be.

“He’s already gone down,” the ghost said in a high-pitched voice, “You should hurry.” Then she dove into a toilet. Harry turned to Fred, George and Emily.

“If we’re not back in fifteen minutes. Cave in the entrance. It won’t hold him, but it should delay him long enough to evacuate the castle.” Emily grabbed Harry’s arm.

“You’re going down there alone? He killed your parents.”

“Which is why I have to be the one to finish what they started,” he told her. Emily bit her lip, a tear sliding down her cheek. Then she began unbuckling her belt. She held it out to him, and Harry’s eyes locked on the gun still holstered in it. He took the weapon and its holster with a nod and shifted it to his own belt.

“Please don’t die,” she whispered. She looked as though she wanted to say something else, but then turned away and walked over to the door.

“I don’t like staying up here,” Fred said sternly.

“I don’t care. You’re good at magic Fred. Damn good. But against _him?_ You’ll be more useful here.”

“What if you aren’t back in fifteen minutes?” George asked.

“Then we won’t be back at all,” Ginny stated, still staring at the hole in the ground. Gabrielle was beside her, rubbing her shoulders. Sirius and Flitwick stood a respectful distance away.

Harry stepped up to the girls and pulled Ginny into a hug.

“You don’t have to…”

“No. I do. This is it, Harry. This is the moment I make up for all the mistakes I made. I beat him once. I can do it again.” She steeled herself, then stood tall at the opening, and Harry smiled. Never had he been more proud of anyone than he was of Ginny at that moment. He took her right hand and Gabrielle gripped her left, Mak, Ember and Vel perched on each person’s shoulder. Then, together, they jumped down into the darkness.

* * *

Daphne bolted upright as Remus Lupin ran into the hospital wing, heavy breathing.

She was lying on a hospital bed, her knee in a cast, her sister Astoria at her side. She’d slept for the past two hours, and Madame Pomfrey had worked her magic to heal the wounds on her face and restore her energy. But while the knee had been repaired, it was still fragile.

“What’s the matter?” Madame Pomfrey exclaimed, moving from the side of one of the students wounded in the explosion on the Seventh Floor (Astoria had filled her in).

“We need to evacuate the school. A…” he paused for a brief moment, glancing towards Daphne, then continued, “You Know Who is in the castle.” Daphne and Astoria both froze in utter terror.

“You Know Who? But he’s dead!” Madame Pomfrey said, a tremble entering her voice Daphne couldn’t fault in the slightest.

“Apparently Dumbledore lied to the whole bloody world. Now he’s here. Harry has gone to the Chamber of Secrets to confront him, but we need to get everyone else out!”

“Oh dear,” Madame Pomfrey said, before rushing to the fireplace in her office and calling for nurses from St Mungo’s to come and help. Remus fled back the way he came. In less than a minute, Mediwitches were emerging from the fireplace and rushing to move all the kids. Daphne glanced at Astoria, who looked terrified.

“Go with them. Get out of the castle,” Daphne told her, throwing back the covers and standing up on her tender leg. “Find Mum and Dad. Tell them the truth.”

Astoria grabbed her arm.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to do what I can to help my friends.”

* * *

The Chamber of Secrets was just as Ginny remembered it. Dark, dank, and reeking of a smell that was part fish guts, part rat faeces. Holding in her mental terror, she led the way through the dark tunnel, avoiding the animal bones littering the ground, and the giant snakeskin discarded beside the wall.

“Um, quick question?” Gabrielle whispered, though her voice echoed anyway, “Did Dumbledore actually get rid of the Basilisk in the end?” That was an excellent question indeed.

“Yes,” Flitwick said, and Ginny couldn’t help breathing a sigh of relief. “Professor Dumbledore, Snape and I came down here after Ginny escaped and used a rooster to kill the beast. We harvested the corpse and used the money to repair the damage to the school. Then we burned it.”

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Gabrielle whispered.

The snake carved doorway at the end of the tunnel had been wrenched open and discarded, the hinges mangled and rusted. Harry had used the Charge Force to create a sphere of light for illumination, and it stopped at the doorway. A dull rumbling echoed from the other end of the hall.

“Follow up question,” Sirius said, “The axial tilt. Its orientated to evil at the moment, isn’t it?”

This time they all nodded.

“Excellent. Just wanted to make sure.”

Ginny climbed the rusted ladder into the opening and exited the other side into the Chamber proper.

The snake effigies were still here. The giant statue of Salazar Slytherin still dominated the room. The stone was the same glossy black. The water in the two fountain ponds alongside the walkway remained still as glass. And on the far side of the room, beneath the domed roof, was the pool of light. The Perpendicularity. In its centre was a figure in robes of the purest black; white, hairless head creating a frightening juxtaposition. He stood with arms thrown wide, absorbing the flecks of rainbow energy that rose up from the pool’s surface. The silver metal contraption she’d seen last time had been removed from the pool and discarded. She supposed it was probably Aluminium.

Harry grabbed Ginny’s shoulder and pressed something into her palm. She glanced down and started slightly when she realised it was Flamel’s aluminium knife. She locked eyes with Harry, and he nodded softly to her. Then he pulled ahead of the others, stalking down the pathway, Mak fluttering beside him.

“Tom Riddle,” he called. Voldemort lowered his arms and turned around, a sick smile crossing his pale lips.

“Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. From what I hear, people have developed quite the opinion of you.” His voice was cold and high pitched, but his words were lined with a sense of malice Ginny couldn’t describe. With Gabrielle at her side and Flitwick and Sirius behind her, the foursome moved forward after Harry.

“I don’t suppose we can let bygones be bygones, can we?” Harry asked, “I mean, you killed my parents, I killed you, then I accidentally helped bring you back to life. I’d say we’re even. I’ll let you finish… doing whatever it is that you’re doing, you agree not to go around killing nice folks – you’re more than welcome to the assholes – and we can both go on our merry ways. Deal?”

Voldemort studied Harry for a second, then stepped out of the pool, bare feet glistening with rainbow light. His eyes were a deep, blood red. This was Tom Riddle? No. This wasn’t the thing that had poisoned Ginny’s mind. That charismatic, charming boy was dead. This was the monster he’d become.

“An interesting proposition. But, unfortunately, I’m afraid I will have to decline. You see, I left a great work unfinished. Now that I have returned, I intend to see it fulfilled.” He smiled then, a chilling expression that sent shivers right down to Ginny’s bones. She tore her eyes away from Voldemort and cast her gaze around the pool. There! A glint of light reflected off a red stone lying near the lip of the pool. The Philosophers Stone.

“However, I am impressed with you, Harry Potter. You have come further than I could have ever dreamed when I intended to kill you that night. Perhaps I was in error. Perhaps, instead of killing you, I should have taken you. Groomed you to use your power with wisdom and precision. I intend to remedy that mistake now. Join me. I have seen your power. United, none could stop us. The muggles deserve to be destroyed. They are poisoning the Earth, tearing away her resources and violating her most sacred places. We can do better, you and I. We _must_ do better.” Voldemort’s eyes gleamed just a little.

“I will even allow you this gift. Specify your terms, Harry Potter. Do you wish me to pardon the blood traitor families? A harem at your beck and call? Or maybe it is the muggle-borns you wish spared? I am willing to learn from my mistakes, and my blind hatred of them has tempered over the years. They have potential to offer. Together we can nourish it!”

Ginny blinked in shock. What? It was a trick, surely. Ginny glanced to Ember at the same time Harry looked to Mak. Both faeries were in similar states of astonishment. Then they _nodded_. He was telling the truth?! What the actual fuck?

Voldemort followed Harry’s gaze.

“Ah. So that is your price,” he said, “Very well. Join me, Harry Potter, and I will undo the Pact of Truth.” Harry, Ginny and Gabrielle all flinched in unison.

“That’s impossible,” Harry breathed.

“Nothing is impossible. You of all people should know that. Think of it, Harry! Faeries, free to roam the Earth once more. A new generation of Imagineers to inherit a clean Earth!”

Harry stood deathly still for a few precious moments, before placing a hand on his hip and sighing.

“You have a really good sales pitch, you know that?” he said, nodding to himself. Sirius stirred behind Ginny, but Ember hissed at him, and he said nothing.

“I want the Pact of Truth eradicated, and the people I like spared. You can kill the rest, they all just annoy the shit out of me really. Oh, and I want the harem. That sounds like fun.” Ember giggled, which was about the only thing that stopped Ginny from screaming at Harry and asking what the hell he thought he was doing. Sirius was under no such qualms.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he bellowed, trying to run forward. Flitwick and Gabrielle grabbed him, holding him back.

“Haggling, duh,” Harry said, throwing a look over his shoulder. Mak laughed out loud, though it appeared that Voldemort couldn’t hear her. That was good at least. Harry stepped up to Voldemort and held out his left hand. The right remained on his waist.

“Deal?” Voldemort actually looked shocked at Harry’s proffered hand. He glanced at Sirius, who looked about ready to murder his godson, then smiled at Harry and took his hand.

“Deal.”

Six individual _“CRACKS!”_ like apparation bursts echoed through the Chamber, and Ginny lifted her hands to her ears. But she stared, stunned, as Voldemort jerked backwards violently, falling to the ground and coughing up blood. Ginny rushed forward, the others beside her. Harry had pulled the muggle weapon from his belt with his right hand and pumped six bullets right into Voldemort’s gut.

Just as Ginny reached Harry’s side, Voldemort screamed, releasing a shockwave that blasted everyone backwards.

_(It should be noted that for about five minutes we totally 100% planned for Harry and Voldemort to take over the world and exterminate all the stupid people on the planet. Not so easy for Coronavirus to spread when everyone crazy is dead! We may have also, just for kicks, wrote like one-thousand words detailing how Harry assassinated a certain world leader who shall remain nameless then became God-Emperor of Earth. One can only wish. *sighs dramatically)_

* * *

Harry had doubted his plan would work, but, well, it had been worth a try. He summoned the Fusion Force, though it felt more sluggish than it should, and came to a stop in the air above Voldemort. The others weren’t so lucky. Ginny flew backwards into the fountain water. That had to be gross. Gabrielle slammed into the wall, Flitwick backflipped several times before conjuring a fluffy pillow to land on. Sirius went skidding along the hallway on his ass, before he too fell into the fountain pool.

Harry dropped back to the ground and called lightning into his fingers.

“You lied to me,” Voldemort hissed as he cast a healing charm on his abdomen and stood up slowly, “I’m impressed.”

“If it’s any consolation, I agree with most of the things you said. Except the genocide part… okay so basically I disagree with all of it. Is that harem still on the table though?”

Voldemort fired the Killing Curse at Harry, and he moved to catch the spell. He pulled the Fusion Force into his hand, and tried to repeat his actions with Malfoy. Only his powers were dragging, as if moving through a filter. Harry was forced to dodge sideways, the spell narrowly missing him. He slammed his foot into the ground, and a wave of stone spikes broke away from the tiles, sharpened to points, and shot towards Voldemort. He deflected them with ease. What the hell was wrong with him?

“You don’t think I expected you to find me down here?” Voldemort snapped, stalking towards Harry, a bone-white wand in his hand. “This place is saturated with Equality’s power. The pool is _made_ of power. Your ability to draw on Imagination is diminished here, while my powers are merely fuelled!”

Ginny crawled out of the fountain pond and rushed towards the side of the Perpendicularity pool. Flitwick and Sirius rushed up behind Harry, and Mak moved sluggishly in the air beside him.

Harry growled, pulling the Charge Force into his body – or as much of it as he could – then fired lightning bolt after lightning bolt at Voldemort. Flitwick and Sirius began flinging spells of their own. It did nothing. Voldemort moved faster than Harry could believe possible without the Strength Force, dodging and shielding everything they threw at him. Then he retaliated. Dozens of spells lit up the air, and Harry tried his best to forge a shield of Division. He absorbed most of Voldemort’s attacks, but the shield faltered at the end of the barrage. A severing charm caught Sirius in the arm, and Harry was blasted backwards by a reductor. He slammed into one of the snake statues and heard his shoulder shatter. He screamed in pain.

That left Flitwick, master duellist, alone against Voldemort.

* * *

Ginny grabbed the Philosophers Stone from its place beside the Perpendicularity. She had tried to use the Fusion Force to catch herself when the shockwave hit her, but the power had resisted her. She’d felt that only once before. When she’d tried to push it through her wand. Equality and Imagination rebounding off one another. It must be the pool. The closer one was to it; the weaker Design was. She supposed that made sense. But right now, it meant Voldemort was beating Harry easily.

Ginny drew her wand and circled towards Gabrielle on the far side of the room. She had struck her head on the wall and was now lying unconscious where she’d fallen. Vel was silent in her pocket. Ginny placed the stone in Gabrielle’s hand, then turned back to the battle.

She couldn’t see Harry, and Voldemort was now duelling with Professor Flitwick. The Professor had actually managed to force Voldemort back towards the pool. He may be more powerful, but he hadn’t been in a magical duel in fifteen years. He was bound to be rusty. Even as she had the thought, Voldemort shot a lance of darkness from his wand, while at the same time he raised his hand to the roof and used _wandless magic_ to dislodge a stalagmite from the ceiling.

Ginny gasped in horror as she realised the danger, and she raised her wand.

“Wingardium Leviosa!” Voldemort moved on her before she even finished the spell. He spun with unnatural speed and fired a red spell she didn’t recognise at her. She conjured a shield as she ran, and Voldemort’s spell _shattered_ it. It struck Ginny’s chest, and an agonising pain wracked through her entire body at once. She screamed in utter anguish as her body seized with pain and she was flung across the room. She heard the stalactite smash into something, and a cry of pain from beyond, but her brain barely registered it. All she felt was the pain. She reached blindly for her link to Ember and was rewarded by a tiny wisp of the Life Force trickling into her body, dampening the electrifying pain. 

Disorientated, her whole body screaming, she forced her eyes open and struggled to her knees. Flitwick had managed to dodge the stalactite, judging by the fact it wasn’t sticking out of his chest. But the distraction had worked all the same. Voldemort had caught Flitwick with a spell, and judging by the fact he lay prone on the stone walkway, unmoving, it was most likely the killing curse.

As Ginny struggled to her feet, Sirius charged at Voldemort, throwing a half dozen reductors as he ran, left arm limp. Voldemort absorbed three with a shield, redirected the fourth and fifth into the ceiling again, causing an earthquake that showered debris and dust all throughout the Chamber. The sixth took him in the shoulder, and he stumbled backwards slightly, grunting.

“Avada Kedavra!” Sirius screamed, firing the green curse at Voldemort. He lifted the ground up, absorbing the Unforgiveable Curse. The ground exploded, and Voldemort transfigured the debris into metal and flung them back at Sirius. Three jagged pieces of metal slammed into his chest, and another one sliced through his right arm. He cried out in agony as his arm ripped clean away from his body, then he slumped to the ground.

Ginny looked around frantically for her wand, lost in the fall, and her eyes were drawn towards the pool. It had begun to ripple outwards from the centre, and… was that a green tint to the waters, or was she imagining it? No, the light was definitely green now instead of the rainbow refraction it should have been.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” Voldemort said in that whispering voice, “I offered you power, and you betray me. I’m hurt. I really am.”

Harry crawled out of the fountain water and stood with his wand in his left hand. His right shoulder was a bloody mess. Despite his lack of power and what had to be an incredibly painful wound, he still stood between Voldemort and the exit. To Ginny’s right, Gabrielle began to stir.

“I already have all the power I need.”

The green light had begun to collect atop the pool’s surface, and the ripples were growing stronger. Could it be? It had to. It was the only thing that made sense. Ginny began slowly making her way around the edge of the room, trying her hardest to be as silent as possible. She drew the silver dagger with her right hand.

“Is that so? Look how well it did you. I have killed all your friends in a few minutes, and now you stand here as weak as you were when you were a child. You don’t have your filthy muggle mother to save you this time!”

Ginny placed herself at an angle between Voldemort and the pool, then she looked to Ember. The faerie had tears in her eyes. The light had begun to reflect outside the pool, casting the Chamber an eerie green.

“Then I’ll die making her proud,” he said, then raised his wand.

“Expelliarmus!”

“Avada Kedavra!”

The two spells shot towards one another and Ginny made her move. She bolted forward, running towards Voldemort at the same time the spells collided. Both Harry and Voldemort flew backwards. Harry in the direction of the door and Voldemort back towards the pool. The green light in the pool detonated, a blinding flash surging through the Chamber as the axial tilt shifted from evil back to good. Ginny jumped at Voldemort with a scream, ramming the knife into his neck. They collided in mid-air, then crashed together into the Perpendicularity.

Rainbow light exploded around her, and Ginny screamed as she was pulled down into an abyss. Water surged over her head, drowning her, but she didn’t let go of Voldemort.

Together they sank into the blinding light, and Ginny knew no more.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because we did feel a little bad about the cliffhanger last time, here are two chapters for you!

# Chapter 25:

_“The splinters were caught at first by the Vault, but they have since escaped out into Earth. I have employed a similar tactic with this book. I have sent it back through the Vault, and with any luck, it will be spat out where I entered.”_

_From the Secret Diary of Merlinus Caledonensis; Earth, 537 Common Era_

* * *

## Two years ago…

Ginny wasn’t sure how long she slept in that horrible place, but when she woke up, she was still tired, cramped and incredibly sore. And the faerie was still there. It stood on the ground, staring up at her with eyes like burning coals.

“What’s your name?” she asked the creature.

“Ember,” she replied gleefully, before floating up in the air and grabbing onto Ginny’s hair like she was climbing a rope ladder.

Ginny slowly rose to her feet, glancing back at the pool. It was perfectly still once more, though that rod of silver metal still floated within. She shook her head, trying to think, but her mind was all jumbled. She remembered… what did she remember? She remembered Tom. He had tried to come out of the Diary, tried to possess her using that evil faerie. There was a voice in her head… And Odium. She’d met the god of hate. That… was something she kind of wished she had forgotten.

Shivering, she made her way back down the passageway to the far end of the Chamber. Where was the Basilisk? She didn’t know and didn’t want to find out. She doubted she’d be able to control it without Tom possessing her and had no idea how to kill one.

Eventually, she reached the end of the passage and stared upwards at the hole in the roof. How was she… Ember nudged her, still swinging on a lock of hair, and Ginny felt an odd static sensation flood her body. Then she started _floating_. Has she done that? Had the faerie? Ginny didn’t question it. She was too tired.

She concentrated on going ‘up’, and sure enough, she began to move in that direction. The tunnel was completely dark, it had sealed itself after her passing. Fortunately, as she neared the top it began to open on its own.

She floated up out of the hole and collapsed on the floor, even more exhausted than before. She began breathing heavily as the world spun around her. Okay Ginny, just breathe. You’ll be fine. She just needed to catch her breath.

She sat there for a few minutes before the doors slammed open, causing her to shriek in fright. Professor Dumbledore was there, flanked by a dozen Aurors in their red hats and fancy robes.

Dumbledore looked down at her ragged form, and Ginny wilted.

“Miss Weasley? What happened to you?!” He exclaimed, kneeling down beside her and pulling her to his chest. Ginny, desperate for some human contact, buried herself in his chest and began to cry. She told him everything she could remember. About the Diary and Tom. About the monster it had forced her to unleash. How she’d fought against it, tried to stop it from killing. And she whispered of the terrible spirit she had seen. Odium. That name made even Dumbledore flinch.

She didn’t remember him picking her up and carrying her to the hospital wing, nor did she remember falling asleep there. What she did remember was waking up several hours later and hearing her mother and father arguing with Dumbledore in the distance.

“I refuse to believe my Ginny was responsible for such horrors.” Her father.

“I’m sorry, Arthur. I can only tell you what she told me herself. She did release the monster on the school, if by accident, and it did kill those people. It _was _her fault.” Ginny shivered into her sheets. She had taken responsibility for her actions in the Chamber, but that didn’t mean she wanted it rubbed in her face.

“I knew something like this would happen,” her mother said in her stern voice. The one she used only with Ginny. Even when the twins did something naughty, she didn’t use that voice. “I _told _you. She’s not normal that one. I wanted to stop at six, but you wanted a daughter. I told you, a seventh child is always bad luck. All the stories say so. I tried to force it out of her, make certain she was as normal a witch as possible, but she’s always been too powerful for her own good. No, I knew this would happen.”

Ginny didn’t want to hear anymore, so she buried her head in her pillow and cried herself back to sleep.

The school reopened the next day.

Ginny had tried talking to her mother, but she’d stormed off in a huff. Her father… he hadn’t been able to even _look_ at her. Madame Pomfrey had given her a clean bill of health, and when Ginny had asked about her rapid aging, the woman had simply said that it was common in pureblood children. Forced early growth acceleration was apparently a frequently performed practice in the old families. She supposed that was why the Slytherins always seemed taller than her. Well, they had at the beginning of the year at least. Now she was almost the tallest in her year. Madame Pomfrey said she’d probably be stuck at this height for a while, until her natural growth kicked back in at fifteen. Ginny had cried again at that.

Finally, Ginny had left the hospital wing and made her way towards Gryffindor Tower. That was when she learned that everyone in the school now knew what she’d done.

She’d encountered some of her Hufflepuff friends from the beginning of the year on her way up the stairs. They’d screamed and run away as fast as possible. The next people she encountered was a group of seventh years. Upon seeing her, they immediately turned their backs and fled, and Ginny hadn’t been able to help the horrible feeling of dread that settled on her shoulders. She had _won._ She had beaten Tom and Odium and that evil faerie. So why did she feel just as sick now that she was free of him.

_‘You’ll never be free of me,’ _A voice whispered.

Through it all, Ember just kept swinging on her hair.

When Ginny stepped through the portrait hole, the entire common room went silent, and Ginny was certain everyone would be able to hear her heart trying to jackhammer out of her chest. Ron rushed down the stairs, then, spotting her, his face contorted in rage. He stormed forward, and punched her in the face.

“That’s for Hermione,” he hissed. She staggered back, Ember flying free of her hair. She raised a hand to her face, then gritted her teeth. She had gone through all of _that_, just to get punched by Ron?

“Stay away from me,” she hissed, making her voice low. The static energy swelled to life within her once more, and a collective gasp flooded through the room. Ron shrieked, then ran back the way he’d come.

Ginny held onto the static as she rushed up the stairs to her dorm, trying desperately not to cry again. Ember glided up behind her. She reached her door and slammed it closed, sinking down to the floor behind it.

The room was drastically different to how it had looked the last time she had been in here. Before the beds and wardrobes had all been spaced evenly. Now they were all crammed together next to the window. All except Ginny’s bed. At the point furthest away from the others.

Ginny couldn’t help it. The tears burst free, and she ran to her bed, sobbing. She threw herself atop the mattress and screamed. It was so unfair! Why!? Why did her life have to suck so much?!

The familiar rush of wind tickled her hair, and Ginny looked up at the crack in the wall. It was a small thing, large enough for a bug to fit through, and at the end of the passageway was what Ginny thought was an old cupboard under the stairs. She’d found it when she first chose her bed, thinking that perhaps she could hide something in there if she wanted.

Maybe she should hide _herself_ in there, she thought, sinking down into her threadbare pillow. Ember fluttered down beside her and lay her head in front of Ginny’s eyes. She reached out and whipped a tear away. Trying to be as delicate as possible, Ginny cupped the faerie and held her close to her chest, weeping for a girl lost in the darkness of the world.

* * *

## Now...

“GINNY!!!” Harry screamed, heart trying to tear itself free of his chest. He cast aside his wand and the sphere of Decay Force he’d been planning to use against Voldemort while he was distracted by the shockwave, running full tilt towards the pool. He dropped to his knees beside the waters, but they were perfectly still. Not a ripple to be seen.

“No, no, no, no, nononononon. Not AGAIN! GINNY!!!” He splashed at the water, trying to see into the depths, but his hand barely submerged before it hit stone. Where had she gone? Where had Voldemort gone? Gabrielle dropped to his side, grabbing his shoulder.

“I only saw the end,” she said frantically, “I was too far away to help…”

“Ember!” Mak called desperately, flying around the pool edge. She couldn’t seem to get closer to it than that. “Ember!”

The air around Harry and Gabrielle began to vibrate, and they spun around in time to see a refraction of rainbow light crack the sky. Harry tried to see into it, and the rainbow light pulled at his mind. Drawing him further and further in… He saw balance eternal. Like a set of scales held in perfect equilibrium. It wasn’t frozen; on each side of the infinite scale things were constantly increasing or failing away. It was the scales job to hold them in balance. The guardian who protects the door from both sides.

He was shoved out of its grip by Gabrielle, and he hit the ground on his shattered shoulder. He screamed, and Gabrielle immediately began to apologise.

“I’m sorry! You were moving closer and closer and I… I can’t lose you two.” Harry carefully looked back to the refraction, and for the first time realised that Mak was clinging to his clothes, face dazed. As he watched, her form seemed to blur, her essence being drawn towards the opening.

“Ember’s splinter,” Harry breathed. “Oh, God. That means Ginny…”

The refraction vanished as if it had never been. In the distance, a woman screamed.

* * *

Daphne hobbled into the Second Floor Girl’s bathroom just in time to witness Emily scream, falling to her knees and throwing her hands to her head. Fred and George, who’d had their wands trained on the giant hole in the ground, spun around searching for threats. Daphne dropped to the ground beside her, wincing as the pain in her knee flared up, but as she did so, a silver mist began to condense around Emily’s feet.

“Get back!” she yelled, her mind jumping back to that day in Harry’s room. Not bothering with trying to stand, she scooted back across the room on her ass.

“What?!”

“Do as I say!” she snapped, and the twins, who’d moved towards Emily, backed away, though they still held their wands at the ready. Emily’s scream faded away, and her eyes glowed solid gold. She let out a long, ragged breath as the mist rose up around her. Emily thrust her hand forward, and a cyclone of energy erupted in her hand. Then it solidified into the shape of a young girl with golden hair so long it actually wrapped around her body to form a dress of sorts. She giggled, spinning around several times, then face planted into Emily’s hand.

Emily blinked away the light in her eyes, and slumped against the stone wall, staring at the newly born faerie in her hand.

A rush of wind burst free of the hole, and Fred and George spun back to the entrance as Harry shot up into the room, dropping to the ground, electricity pumping along his arms. Then he spotted Emily. He let his power bleed away as Emily looked up at him, completely baffled. Then, to Daphne’s amazement, he sat down on the ground, pulled Mak to his chest and began to sob quietly to himself.

* * *

Harry didn’t really say much for the next few hours. He just sat on the steps leading up from the Entrance Hall, Mak nestled in his cloak. He’d changed out of his blood-soaked school robes, and a nurse from St Mungo’s had looked at his wounds. He hadn’t tried to accelerate their healing with the Life Force. He hadn’t felt he deserved it.

What did you do, when the girl you’d come to love sacrificed herself to kill a genocidal magical terrorist? The same man that had killed his parents. Twice now he’d been saved from Voldemort by someone who loved him, and he couldn’t help but think he was living on borrowed time.

He should be out there helping Emily adjust to her knew faerie companion. He should be helping with the wounded. Flitwick was dead. The man had started Harry on his journey to discovering the truth about his powers and had been a steadfast friend during Harry’s imprisonment and after. Sirius Black, his godfather, was barely clinging to life. Harry had led them both to the slaughter. James, his friend for years, his partner in crime in the Bunker. Butchered by Nicolas Flamel. Hogwarts, a place that had come to feel almost as much a home to him as the Bunker did, had suffered extensive damage. He could be helping repair that.

Instead he sat on the stairs, and all he could think about was Ginny’s smile. That infectious grin that had created a bubbling warmth in him every time he saw it. He would never see it again. He remembered that day in the sky, when they’d first flown together. When he’d first realised that he was truly falling for Ginny Weasley. He’d never told her that he loved her. He steered clear of the night they’d explored one another for the first time. He’d cherish that, but right now the image of her face thrown back in ecstasy only served to stab deeper into his chest. It might have been Flamel who died by the blade, but Harry felt as though he had an Aluminium dagger of his own slowly twisting into his chest.

So he sat there, unseeing, until Gabrielle sat down beside him.

“She wouldn’t want this,” she said softly, and Harry hung his head in shame.

“I know,” he whispered, “that’s what makes me hate myself even more.”

“Don’t. Hate is Odium’s domain, not ours. Ginny didn’t spend three years of her life fighting against that fucker Voldemort just so he could get to the man he loved after she finally finished him off.”

“Is it finished, though?” He asked her, turning towards her. Her cheeks were lined with tear stains, her hair a literal rat’s nest. “The world is still broken, Gabrielle. The axial tilt is just going to keep swinging from good to evil, plunging the world into chaos. Voldemort might be gone for good this time, but the prejudice he espoused remains ingrained in society. Look at Malfoy. Can you tell me honestly that he’s not going to grow up to become just like his father?”

She couldn’t. Vel climbed out of the pocket of her fresh white cardigan and made his way over to Mak. He sat down beside her, and she laid her head on his shoulder.

“That’s to say nothing of what’s going on out there in the rest of the world.” He threw his hand forward in a grand gesture, though what he was pointing at he wasn’t sure. “Voldemort wasn’t wrong. The Earth is dying. How much longer do we have before chaos consumes the world, and Odium reigns eternal over a planet of ashes?” Gabrielle was silent for a long time until, eventually, she spoke up.

“We could try and fix it,” she suggested faintly.

Harry just laughed. “How?”

“By restoring Equality,” Daphne’s voice said. The pair turned around to see Daphne standing atop the stairs with a crutch.

“Dumbledore had a plan. Use the splinters to restore Equality and bring balance back to the Earth. I don’t know if she can fix what humanity broke, but I imagine it would help. Dumbledore said there were seven pieces of Equality’s power still missing. The Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, the Invisibility Cloak, the Sorting Hat, the Philosophers Stone, Mak and Ember. We released Vel from the cloak, and Ember’s splinter is now bound to Emily’s faerie. That makes seven. We have them all.”

“But we don’t know where the Vault of Dreams is,” Gabrielle pointed out.

“I do,” Harry realised, the pieces fitting together in his mind, “there was a map with Dumbledore’s notes. It had the Vault on it.”

Harry jerked to his feet.

“We finish this and restore Equality to the world. That’s what it means. What Ginny sacrificed herself to give us. A chance. Let’s go.” He grabbed Gabrielle’s hand in his, then raced down the stairs looking for Emily, Daphne following behind on her crutch. He would do this for her. He could put his grief into something that mattered. It was a distraction he knew, but at that moment, he didn’t quite care.

* * *

Gabrielle followed Harry and Emily down a cement-lined ridge backing onto the River Thames somewhere in eastern London. It wasn’t a particularly poor area, and the houses on the promenade above the river looked nice enough. Still, neither were any streets save the two closest to the river home to any particularly impressive buildings. It was not a rich neighbourhood by any description.

Harry and Emily guided them to a large drainage pipe slightly taller than Gabrielle, and Harry pulled the grate open, ushering Gabrielle and Daphne inside. Gabrielle moved to summon a light of Charge Force, but Harry held up his hand, and she refrained. He replaced the grate, and Emily led the way through the tunnel.

They walked forward in total darkness, being extra careful not to disturb the silence of the tunnel any more than was necessary. Gabrielle was thankful that there was no actual refuse travelling the down the pipe. Finally, after a long walk in the dark, they came to a bend, and Emily knocked somewhere on something metal. A peephole of light appeared, followed by a curse and the creaking of gears. Then a section of the wall swung outwards, bathing Gabrielle in warm light.

They slipped through the tiny opening, and Gabrielle started. It was an underground bunker full of sleeping bags. They had emerged onto a metal gangway that ringed the space, which was easily two football fields large. She spotted a small kitchen, a firepit… and was that a hot tub?

Harry nodded his thanks to the young boy who’d opened the door. The boy saluted, and the group of four made their way down a set of stairs to the ground floor. Gabrielle glanced to Daphne, who was taking everything in with a look of stunned shock, jaw hanging open slightly and eyes wide.

“You grew up here?” Daphne asked softly as Emily ran towards several ratty old couches surrounding the firepit.

“Dad!” She called, and Gabrielle spotted a head swivel around.

“It’s not much, but there are thousands of people in London alone who have it far worse. I’m lucky these people were good enough to take me in.” He sighed, drooping his head. “So much good it did them in the end. This place used to be packed. Now there are only fifty or so occupied beds. The rest are back on the streets, too scared to come home, because I brought the Aurors here.” He walked off, giving Daphne and Gabrielle no time to reply. They hurried after him, Daphne on her crutch. He eventually stopped by an old sleeping bag near the corner of the room, beside one of the walls. It was red and extremely thin, but beside it was a tiny mattress Mak’s size made from bubble wrap and what might have been a shirt sleeve, with a pillow of cotton buds stuffed inside a baby’s sock. It was both adorable and gut-wrenching at the same time.

Daphne looked like she wanted to be ill. Harry sat down and leaned his head against the wall, and Mak fluttered down to her makeshift bed with glee. Gabrielle placed Vel on the bed beside her, and Mak began showing him around, narrating where each piece had come from with an intense pride that Gabrielle couldn’t help smiling at.

“Harry!” A voice exclaimed, and Gabrielle spun around to see a man in his middle years – presumably Emily’s father – rushing towards them, Emily, Sammy and Fleur behind him. Harry waved to the man, and Fleur pulled Gabrielle into a hug. She had to admit, despite their estrangement, it was nice just to be held. They separated, and Gabrielle nodded softly to her sister. Fleur smiled and they turned their attention back to Sammy, who was wearing Hogs the Sorting Hat on her head.

“What happened?” she asked.

Harry didn’t answer, and Daphne didn’t seem to be paying attention, still staring out at all the ragged people moving about. The young boy from before was rushing about gathering a group of about fifteen kids around him.

Gabrielle gave them a barebones explanation, and Hogs shivered atop Sammy’s head.

“So, it is time,” he whispered.

“It is,” Harry confirmed, pushing to his feet. Sammy swung her backpack around and unzipped it. Inside were the notes Harry had stolen from Dumbledore’s office, the Elder Wand, and a small ruby stone. The Resurrection Stone. Gabrielle reached into her own pocket and withdrew the Philosopher’s Stone Ginny had given her, then dropped it into the bag as well.

“I checked the notes,” Sammy said, “The Vault of Dreams is at Glastonbury Tor.”

That finally seemed to jolt Daphne back to awareness. She spun around, staring at Sammy.

“As in the gateway to Avalon, mythical land of the faeries in Arthurian legend Glastonbury Tor?”

“The very same.”

Harry chuckled under his breath. “Then let’s…” he trailed off, watching as the group of kids made their way over to them.

“Harry!” One of them cried, and several others repeated it.

“You’re back!” a young girl in pigtails exclaimed, bouncing up and down. Harry smiled, the first real smile he’d had since the Chamber.

“Not yet, Mary. I have to go and save the world!” ‘Mary’ gasped, and the kids all began whispering to themselves.

“Don’t worry, I promise to come back and tell you all the whole story when I’m done.” They cheered, rushing forward to envelop Harry in a group hug. Mak fluttered around him, and Vel climbed Gabrielle’s jeans to return to her pocket. Then, Harry wading through his crowd of kids, they made their way to another exit on the far side of the room.


	26. Chapter 26

# Chapter 26:

_“Therefore, I, Merlinus Caledonensis, charge the finder of this journal to hunt down the splinters, of which there should be eight. Marilyn and I have returned one already, that leaves seven others. You must hurry. The longer time stretches, the weaker Equality gets, and the more violent the axial tilt will become. It may have already started by the time this reaches the outside. If we do not act, the entire world will be at risk. I cannot help you any further, trapped as I am in this prison beyond time. It must be you. Do not fail.”_

_The last entry from the Secret Diary of Merlinus Caledonensis; Earth, 537 Common Era_

* * *

It was midnight, the full moon soaring towards its zenith, when four sixteen-year-olds and seven faeries reached the foot of Glastonbury Tor.

"This is the place," Harry whispered, staring at the dome-like hill thrusting up from the otherwise entirely flat ground around them. Atop the hill was a single, roofless stone tower perhaps two stories high. The very air was vibrating with power. He could smell it, feel it sitting heavy on his shoulders. Hogs, Mak and Vel hadn't said anything since they arrived, and Emily's faerie had yet to utter a single word. She was sleeping in the pocket of Emily's jumper at the moment. Mak was floating beside Harry's head in a trance-like state.

The rustic town was completely quiet. Not a person or car to be seen. In the dead of night, only the streetlights provided any sort of evidence they remained in the modern world. Oh, he was sure that during the day, when he could see lights in stores and grocery shops and cars were driving on the roads, it would feel just as modern as everywhere else, but right now he could just enjoy the crisp air. The silence. The purity of it all.

Shouldering his backpack, he began walking up the cement path carved into the ridge of the hill. Gabrielle, Daphne and Emily followed silently behind him. Fleur and Sammy had set out to return to Hogwarts. Sammy was going to find Nylah and Sirius, and Fleur would talk to Gabrielle's parents, as well as Daphne's parents and Madame Maxine. Then the pair would go to Professor McGonagall and Amelia Bones and tell them what Harry and his friends intended to do. By the time McGonagall found out, it would be over. Hopefully.

As Harry and the others neared the top, the city below vanished. All the faeries – even Hogs in Harry's backpack and Emily's unnamed faerie – began humming softly to themselves. It was as if, with every step they took, time began to unwind. Enormous trees, elms and oaks, grew up from the ground, the cement was replaced by dirt, and the stars began blazing with a magnificence that took his breath away. The air became heavy with woods smell, and the faint sound of wind-chimes echoed on the wind. Fireflies emerged from the trees, and flowers bloomed from the dew-covered grass.

"It's beautiful," Gabrielle whispered. Harry glanced at her and gasped. Her hair – always silver and lustrous – had begun reflecting the moonlight. Her lips had taken on a sheen of perfection, and her eyes held a sparkle of magnificence unparalleled. Harry had to blink several times before he remembered to breathe. Gabrielle saw the reaction – which Harry was not alone in making, as Daphne and Emily were looking at her with the same awe. She looked down at herself, running a hand over her arm.

"It's so smooth, like… like Mum's…" She looked back up, a giant grin on her face. "Veela magic. This is what I'd look like if I was a full Veela!" Everyone was still staring at her, and she blushed scarlet.

"Sorry." Harry closed his eyes, counted to five, then pulled his gaze away. He could still smell her. A beckoning fragrance that both blended with and was distinct from the forest around them. He continued forward until they reached the summit.

The tower was gone. Instead, a shallow pool bordered by grass on all sides reflected the light from the full moon. Standing guard at each compass point was a human-sized faerie in silver armour, each one holding a large and painfully sharp-looking axe. They turned towards Harry and his friends, then bowed.

_"Salutair, selrien de Tastheria. Illa manreront vo."_

Before, Harry had never been able to understand the faerie language, but this time he just _knew_ what the faerie had said.

_Welcome, children of Imagination. He waits for you._

The faerie guardians stepped aside and the water in the pool began to bubble. Emily, Daphne and Gabrielle stood beside Harry, watching in awe as two tentacles of water rose up into the air, joining to form an archway of falling water. Harry took a deep breath, and stepped through.

He emerged into the eye of the storm.

The 'Vault' was inside the Tor. The walls were made from rippling water, but beyond the crystal sea was a raging torrent of silver energy. It was the unbridled power of creation. The dreams of every being in the cosmere condensed into a single shard of divine power. It spun around itself at the speed of light, a cyclone with this sphere of water in the centre. The others stepped through the portal with him, and Emily fell to her knees, pointing towards the centre of the watery shell.

A man hovered in the air, glowing with the same silver light as the energy outside. He wore a silver robe so long it brushed the floor several feet below, but otherwise, he shined too brightly to see any other detail in his clothes. His hair was shoulder-length brown, and his eyes blazed with the force of cosmic inspiration. His hands were held in front of his chest, inches apart. Clasped between them was a fixed point of power that refracted all colours of the rainbow.

"Teenagers!" another man shouted, standing up from beyond God. He rushed around the searing light and ran up to them. His hair was short and spiked, and he wore a leather jerkin and stockings. But it was the wooden staff he carried, and the faerie perched atop it, that gave away who he was.

"Holy Merlin," Daphne exclaimed.

"Yes, Imagination damn it!" he said sternly, looking them over as he approached.

"Tell me, what's the year? How long has it been? Did you find my journal?"

"Its…" Daphne blinked several times. "It's the 21st Century." Merlin jerked backwards as if struck.

"The 21st… the 21st Century! I've been stuck in here for 1500 YEARS!" he screamed. Harry couldn't help it. He laughed. Merlin sneered at him.

"At least tell me you brought the splinters like I asked?" he begged.

Harry rolled his eyes and slung the backpack off his shoulder.

"That's _Merlin?_" Emily asked Gabrielle in a soft voice.

"Apparently."

"I thought he'd … you know, have a long beard and a pointy hat or something."

"So did _I."_

"Oh, thank heavens," Merlin said, taking the bag and looking inside.

"What are these supposed to… what on Earth? Are they trapped!? Did you do this!?" He turned on them, lowering his staff, and Mak finally seemed to snap out of her dazed state. She flew between Harry and Merlin and stuck her tongue out at him.

"Watch it old guy. We've had a really fucking shitty day alright. You should be glad the guys who _were_ going to come here didn't show up. Because they _sucked_."

Merlin frowned. "What's a fucking shitty day?" Harry facepalmed, then snatched the bag back from Merlin and strode towards God. Marilyn, Merlin's faerie, jumped from atop his staff and fluttered over to Mak. They seemed to be the same type of faerie. Same skin colour and blonde hair, and they both had insect-like wings.

"Mirobella?" Mak squeaked and almost fell out of the sky.

"That's my mother's name," she whispered, then gasped. "I remember my mother's _name!_ I had a mother?!"

Marilyn laughed. "Your memories will come back now that we've transitioned into the Valley. But if Mirobella is your mother, that means that you're my niece." Mak squealed in glee, then hugged the other faerie. Harry glanced over his shoulder at Merlin.

"That satisfy you?"

He huffed in annoyance.

They stopped together before God and knelt. Then God looked at them.

**"_WHO ARE YOU?"_**

Harry swallowed sharply.

"My name is Harry Potter, and these are my friends, Daphne, Emily and Gabrielle. We… we brought the splinters of Equality." Imagination grinned.

** _"FINALLY. BRING THEM FORTH."_ **

Harry opened the bag and pulled out the Philosophers Stone, the Sorting Hat, the Elder Wand and the Resurrection Stone. For once, Hogs had nothing to say. He simply stared upwards with that same daze. Mak landed beside the objects, and Emily and Gabrielle placed their faeries down beside her.

** _"THANK YOU."_ **

He inhaled deeply, and flurries of rainbow light split from Mak, Vel and Emily's faerie. They shot up into the air and merged with the sphere in God's hands. Then, one by one, the objects arrayed on the ground shattered. As they did, another flurry escaped and soared up to merge with Equality's power, and a faerie formed on the rippling ocean floor. Finally, Hogs gasped and cast out his splinter, though he remained bound to the hat. It fluttered up, then synced with the rest of the power without a sound.

A shockwave blasted everyone backwards, and Imagination laughed with glee. Harry hit the ground, Mak beside him, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight before him. On either side, he grabbed Gabrielle and Emily's hands.

God rose up into the air as the sphere in his hands began to expand. Then he lost his human form and shot up through the roof as a bolt of energy. A resounding '_BOOM!' _shook the Vault of Dreams, and the storm of power outside coalesced, before leaving the Vault and merging with the bolt of power in the sky.

The world began to tremble, and the walls of water exploded outwards.

"Amazing!" Merlin cried as winds like a hurricane whipped up around them.

The ocean did not spread as far as Harry had thought. It extended around them for several kilometres, then it was consumed by a thick layer of mud and slime. The sky, obscured by the water before, was revealed to be covered in dark clouds, the only illumination a small, cold sun in the far distance.

"What's happening?" Emily screamed.

"We're seeing into the Valley!" Merlin yelled through his cackling.

"This place has been poisoned since Equality was splintered!" Marilyn explained. "With no mind to guide it, Equality's power has been dormant and sickly, lying like a layer of filth over the world. The mud pulls away from beings of Imagination like us because we repulse it. It's the same reason you can't use Enchantment and Design at the same time!"

The sea of mud began to steam, bubbling like lava escaping a volcano. High above them, the storm of silver energy continued to swirl, kicking up a phantom wind that howled around them. Then, the mud began to evaporate. It turned to a thick rainbow steam, before being sucked towards the storm above. The storm parted, forming a giant ring around a sphere of rainbow energy as more and more of the steam was pulled in. It streamed towards that shining light from all directions, and as it was pulled in, the mud vanished, revealing more of the magnificent ocean. But now Harry could also see green fields that snaked like rivers across the planet below, and… and there were shimmering bubbles floating up out of the ocean. They didn't pop or float away. They just hovered where they emerged, pulsing.

"The souls of people and animals on the other side," Mak exclaimed, "This is a world of the mind, and so thoughts manifest here in this realm as bubbles of light." The bubbles had begun moving away from the ruins of the Vault. If Harry concentrated hard enough, he could just see a crater where Glastonbury Tor had once been.

The last of the rainbow steam was pulled into the sky, and a shockwave blasted out across the world, burning away the clouds. As it passed through them, the Valley fell away.

They were back in the mystical forest, the pool of water sitting tranquil and still in the heart of the grass clearing. The moon was still overhead, reflecting over the water. The wind was gone, and they were no longer atop a hill, but in a deep bowl.

Daphne let out a long breath, before lying on the ground and staring up at the sky.

"I don't think I'm ever going to be able to _unsee_ that."

"Me neither," Harry muttered, eyes fixed on the pool.

"Wow!" said a new voice, feminine and chirpy, "Now that is what I call a light show!" Harry spun towards Emily, who was staring at the golden faerie in her hand.

"You can speak?!" Emily exclaimed.

"_Now_ I can," she said, grinning, "That bloody Pact of Truth doesn't work near Imagination's Perpendicularity." She gestured towards the pool.

"What's your name?"

"Carellia," the faerie said proudly. She twirled around, golden dress flaring as she did so, then looked up at Emily, "And you're Emily Alvere, the girl I chose. Nice to meet you!"

"Hi," Emily said, clearly still stunned.

The moment was interrupted by a soft sigh in the air. The five humans turned back to the pool just in time to see a body condense from mist, lifeless. It fell from the air, then another man appeared and caught her.

"NOOOO!" he shouted in horror, dropping to his knees with her. The man… he no longer glowed like the sun, but Harry could tell it was Imagination. He wore the same robe, and his hair was the same. Very Aragorn-esque. His eyes were a deep silver. The woman… well, she was gorgeous. Long black hair and caramel skin, she wore a silk dress patterned in all colours of the rainbow. And she was dead.

Imagination laid the woman who had once been Equality down on the ground, then sobbed into her chest.

"I spent so long… I held you together for three thousand years… and you were dead the whole time." Merlin stepped up beside Harry.

"They loved each other," Harry said, "I didn't know gods _could _love."

"They were human once," Merlin said, "They all were. Then something happened, I don't know what, and creation was shattered into sixteen pieces. Ourans and Gaea, they were two of the people to pick up the shattered remains. They became _Imagination_ and _Equality_, but they were still husband and wife."

Gabrielle came up on Harry's other side, still looking like an angel, though worry was etched on her face.

"Harry," she whispered as God continued to weep, "If she's… if the human is dead, what about the Shard? All that power? Where is it?"

Imagination lifted his head from Equality's corpse and let out a guttural scream. Her body melted away, and a grove of flowers that Harry had never seen before grew up around the pool. Then, trembling, he stood up and turned towards the gathered humans.

"Thank you for your help," he said, but his voice no longer sounded like that of a god. It just seemed… tired. "I have supercharged the Perpendicularity. That will ensure that my power is always drawn here, to this planet that Gaea cared so deeply for."

Harry frowned.

"You're leaving?" Gabrielle asked.

"Yes," Imagination answered. "I intend to discover what has occurred in the Cosmere during my absence. I can sense the others… some of them. Others are blind to me, though I know not why. I do not have the gifts of fortune or foresight; Imagination is about what you can do in the here and now. But my greatest strength is Connection, and I can use that to find Odium." His voice darkened, and though he didn't look it at that moment, Harry couldn't forget that this man was simply a façade. Imagination, truly, was that storm he had seen in the sky, not this broken man before them now.

"Rayse always thought he was so clever. That he was better than the rest of us. But smart as he was, he was never very careful. He showed me how to splinter a Shard, and now I will make him pay for what he has done to my friends." He turned towards the sky and vanished.

* * *

Daphne blinked. Then she blinked again. Had God just _abandoned _them?

"Well, that was not how I expected _that_ to go," Merlin said. Because Merlin. Yes, she was having a very hard time processing this.

"What happens now?" Emily asked. The faeries looked to each other and shrugged.

"I don't know," Hogs said, still bound to the Sorting Hat and sitting on the ground, "But I don't think we're going to be alone for very long." He gestured with the point of his hat towards the place where Equality's body had melted away. The flowers there had started to steam, the same rainbow vapour that the mud had transformed into. Then the thumping began. A soft hum emanating from that very spot, pulsing out across the world.

"The Hat's right," Merlin said, "every witch and wizard on Earth is going to sense that fragment of divinity just sitting here like a piece of flotsam. A Shard of Heaven up for the taking."

The steam grew thicker, and the thumping in her mind louder. Her wand began to vibrate in her pocket.

"Not to mention the rest of the human race will be flocking here as well," Harry pointed out, "Scientists, cops, politicians. You name it. The Vault collapsing will have sent out a massive seismic event recorded across the globe, and who knows how many homes were caught in the blast? The police are going to surround this place like flies. If we don't do something, and the wizards and humans get into a fistfight, there's no going back."

"Which brings us back to what do we do?" Gabrielle said.

"One of us has to take up the power," Merlin said. The entire grove went silent.

"What?" Daphne asked eventually.

"That's exactly what Flamel and Dumbledore were going to do before we stopped them!" Harry exclaimed.

"Well someone has to do it," Merlin pointed out.

"And who gets to decide?" Harry snapped, rounding on the legendary wizard.

"There's no _decision_ to be made," Emily said pointedly, drawing everyone's attention to her.

"Why?"

"Because there's only one person here who _can_ pick it up," she said matter of factly, her faerie nodding emphatically in her palm. Daphne frowned.

"Again, why?" she asked.

Emily rolled her eyes. "Look, I might be new to all of this, but I've at least been paying attention. Imagination and Equality repulse one another remember." She made a gesture encircling everyone but Daphne. "Each one of us is connected to Imagination through our faeries, the thing won't _let _us pick it up. If you want proof, go ahead and try." Merlin did so immediately. He dropped his staff and reached for the steaming flowers. The mist instantly pulled away from his hand. He started, drawing it back.

"All except one of us."

Everyone turned towards Daphne.

"Me?" They nodded, and Daphne gulped. That's when the shouting started. Echoes of voices from beyond the grove, and then several cracks of Apparation.

"They're here," Harry growled, "Quickly, form a line. Daphne, you have to take the Shard." Daphne stood stiff, not comprehending.

"Daph!" She finally snapped out of it, and Gabrielle grabbed her arm, dragging her towards the top of the hill.

"Um, Harry, I don't know how to do this," Emily said from behind her.

"Just think about shooting people with lightning. There's no time to train you… YAGG! Don't shoot me!" The sound of a tree cracking like an egg thundered through the woods.

"Sorry!" They reached the side of the pool as the voices drew closer, and Gabrielle grabbed Daphne by the shoulders.

"I believe in you."

"Good luck Daphne," Vel said from her pocket. Gabrielle looked like she wanted to say something else, but Harry called her name, and she raced off, leaving Daphne staring at that patch of steaming grass beside the pool. She fell to her knees as spellfire began behind her. This was the power of a god! She couldn't do this. She had grown up in lush; rich and powerful; the product of corruption and cheating. She'd been horrified by what she'd seen in the Bunker, hadn't even known such poverty could _exist_. And those poor kids, thin as rakes and desperate. She was the definition of _inequality_. How could she take up a power counter to that?

The steam brushed at her knees, and Daphne felt at the enormity of it. It was cosmic balance. Eternal and never fading. It was love and hate, peace and violence, life and death. There was a balance to everything. Symmetry. Push and pull, open and close, good and evil. It was that force that ensured the universe played by its own rules. Not too much of one, but not too much of the other either. It was balance; eternal and forever.

The outside world faded away as the power reached out, licking at her fingers like tiny tendrils. The steam was merely a manifestation here in the physical world of that terrifying power. The tendrils connected to something vast and otherworldly. Most of the power actually existed in another place… a place _Beyond_ the worlds of thought and matter. A Spiritual Realm. Heaven, in Daphne's language. All this energy, it was like a river of liquid magic flowing from an infinite ocean _Beyond _down into the real world, bound by its intent. Equality.

Whether it was the power expanding her mind the longer she stayed in its grasp, or her own mind coming to the conclusion on its own, she wasn't sure. But she finally understood something she hadn't before. One did not need to grow up destitute to understand Equality. It wasn't something only for the weak to strive for or the strong to give. Equality was the ability for people from completely different environments, rich and poor, male and female, young and old, white and black, magical and non-magical, to come together. To truly be equal. It was people standing side by side with their friends, their families, their communities to fight for justice and fairness and respect. This power, it was that idea, but on a cosmic scale.

The inequality that she had feared might be too deep in her bones wasn't the chain she had envisioned. It was a charge to do better. She had never hated muggle-borns or muggles, but she realised now that she had still seen them as slightly inferior. Then she'd met Harry, become friends with Ginny, and observed that strength wasn't something that came from blood or birth. It was something cultivated by courage and determination. She had met Harry's muggle friends, laughed with them, ate with them, joked with them, fought beside them. These people wizards had scorned for centuries? They were just people. They hoped, they loved, they hated, they dreamed. Just like everyone else.

Equality. Her friends had taught her the true meaning of that word without even really meaning to. The cosmere had groomed her for this moment. She had learned to be better than the environment that created her. Harry had put his faith in her. Ginny had trusted her. Now she earned it.

Daphne clasped the tendrils and pulled on the power. Her body burned, but her mind rode the lines of power. Her soul merged with the energy, and Daphne ascended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are only two chapters to go now. Next week we bring you the finale, including what the f just happened to Daphne, who the mysterious woman locked in Dumbledore's basement was, and the ultimate fate of Ginny Weasley.


	27. Chapter 27

# Chapter 27:

_“We dream to escape, we dream to let go,_

_ To feel what it’s like walking streets of gold._

_ Turn grey skies blue, turn hope into truth,_

_ Yeah, some days, sometimes all you can do is;_

_ Dream from small towns to big city lights,_

_ Turn a heartbreak into love at first sight._

_ When we look at the world and we don’t like what we see,_

_ We close our eyes and we dream.”_

_From the Prophecy of Dreamers. Compiled by Morgan Evans; Earth, 21st Century._

* * *

Daphne’s body vanished. It winked out of existence, leaving a faint outline of steam, before that too disappeared. At the same time, the thumping, which had been growing louder and louder by the second, ceased. About two dozen witches and wizards hid in the forest beyond Harry, Gabrielle, Merlin and Emily’s perimeter, and they all stopped firing spells at the same time. They had heard it too.

Mak and Marilyn fluttered over to the flower bed beside the pool, Carellia, Emily’s faerie, teleporting to their side. Apparently, she could do that.

“Where’d she go?” Harry called to them.

“_Everywhere,” _Mak said mysteriously, and Harry rolled his eyes. Then, as one of the wizards stepped out of the forest, he vanished. Poof. Gone into thin air. Gabrielle started in surprise. What? Several other exclamations of shock echoed through the woods until, finally, even the sounds of police sirens faded away. Gabrielle let the Charge Force slip away and sighed.

“I need a really long sleep,” she said flatly.

A soft pulse rippled through the grove, rustling the trees, and Gabrielle felt a faint echo of serenity wash through her.

“Anyone else feel that?” Harry asked.

“Yep,” Merlin said.

“What _was _that?” Emily said, rubbing her arms through her jacket.

_ME._

Gabrielle eepped, jumping backwards in fright.

“Who said that?!” She demanded, looking around frantically. Something had just spoken in her _head_.

_SORRY GABRIELLE. _The voice was followed by soft _giggling_. Wait… she _knew_ that voice.

“Daphne?” Harry asked, looking around the same as Gabrielle was.

_HI EVERYONE. I’D COME AND VISIT, BUT I’M KIND OF BUSY AT THE MOMENT._

“What?” Gabrielle repeated.

_THIS POWER. EQUALITY. IT’S NOT OMNIPOTENT, OR OMNIPRESENT. I HAVE A LIMITED ABILITY TO SEE INTO THE FUTURE. BETTER THAN IMAGINATION COULD AT ANY RATE. BUT THE REALLY COOL THING IS THAT I CAN REACH BACK INTO THE PAST._

“What, like time-travel?” Emily asked warily, looking up at the sky.

_MORE LIKE WHISPERING. HARRY, THE VOICE YOU HEARD WITH THE DEMENTORS, THAT WAS ME. I’VE BEEN SPEAKING WITH GINNY. GUIDING HER THROUGH HER CONFRONTATION WITH ODIUM TWO-YEARS AGO. I’M… LIMITED. I SUPPOSE YOU COULD SAY THAT I’M A BIT TRUE NEUTRAL. EQUALITY ISN’T GOOD OR EVIL. IT’S ABOUT BALANCING THOSE TWO ASPECTS. I CAN REACH BACK AND TIP THE SCALES TO A DEGREE TO HELP HER, BUT I CAN’T JUST BLAST TOM RIDDLE INTO NON-EXISTENCE, BECAUSE THAT WOULD SIMPLY TILT THE BALANCE THE WRONG WAY._

Gabrielle shivered, repressing that horrible ache in her chest she didn’t have time for. Though the longer she held it, the worse it would be.

“At least someone was there for her,” she whispered. Harry just nodded, saying nothing.

“What happens now?” Merlin asked.

_I HAVE RAISED A BARRIER AROUND THE PERPENDICULARITY TO HIDE THE GROVE FROM OUTSIDERS, MAKING IT APPEAR AS THOUGH THE TOR IS STILL INTACT. HUMANITY ISN’T READY FOR WHAT’S OUT ACROSS THE COSMERE. NOT YET. IT NEEDS TO DEAL WITH ITS OWN INEQUALITIES FIRST. HOPEFULLY, WITH THE AXIAL TILT HEALED AND EQUALITY RESTORED, BALANCE CAN RETURN. I… I DON’T WANT TO INTERVENE TOO GREATLY. THIS POWER, IT’S DANGEROUS. IF I TRY AND INFLUENCE ONE PERSON, I COULD END UP DESTROYING A CITY BY ACCIDENT._

“But you can talk to Ginny,” Gabrielle said.

_I KNEW GINNY. I HAD A CONNECTION TO HER. MAKES IT EASIER TO FOCUS. I NEED TO LEARN MORE BEFORE I MAKE ANY GRAND DECISIONS. BUT I CAN TELL YOU THIS. MY LIMITED VIEW OF THE FUTURE TELLS ME THAT, WITH EQUALITY RESTORED, MY POWER IS ONCE AGAIN PERMEATING THE EARTH AS IT SHOULD, INSTEAD OF POISONING IT. WHICH MEANS THE NUMBER OF MUGGLEBORNS BEING BORN IS GOING TO GO THROUGH THE ROOF. THE WIZARDING WORLD HAS PERHAPS TWENTY YEARS BEFORE IT CANNOT HIDE ANY LONGER. THE POSSIBILITIES ARE MORE VARRIED THE FURTHER OUT I LOOK, BUT THIS I AM CERTAIN OF. YOU MIGHT WANT TO PREPARE._

Daphne’s voice softened slightly, and Gabrielle had the distinct image of Daphne’s visage forged of rainbow light looking down on them from the clouds. She glanced upwards, but nothing was there.

_HARRY, I WAS ABLE TO TAP YOUR CONNECTION TO THE BUNKER._

“The Bunker? What about it?”

_I RESTORED THOSE LOST IN THE AURORS ATTACK AND HEALED THE MEMORIES OF THE PEOPLE OBLIVIATED. I’VE ALSO UPGRADED THE FACILITIES, TRIPLED THE SIZE OF THE BUNKER AND ADDED TWO EXTRA FLOORS WITH PRIVATE ROOMS, CLOTHES AND FURNITURE. I ALSO LEFT A COUPLE OF MILLION DOLLARS IN NYLAH’S ROOM. IT’S NOT MUCH WHEN IT COMES TO FIGHTING THE INEQUALITY, BUT ITS ALL I CAN DO AT THE MOMENT. I KIND OF ACCIDENTALLY MOVED THE COURSE OF THE THAMES A FEW HUNDRED METRES OR SO. YOU THINK ANYONE WILL NOTICE?_

Harry, Gabrielle and Emily all laughed.

“What’s the Thames?” Merlin asked, Marilyn perched on his staff once again.

_MERLIN. I’M SORRY, BUT I CAN’T SEND YOU BACK TO YOUR TIME. HOWEVER, I COULD USE A PAIR OF EYES AND EARS? THERE’S A WHOLE COSMERE OUT THERE TO EXPLORE. I NEED TO KNOW WHAT’S OUT THERE. WHAT IS ODIUM DOING? AND WHAT OF RUIN? THESE ARE THINGS WE MUST LEARN._

Merlin grinned. “A jaunt across the cosmere hmm? Seeing as how I haven’t gone outside in a millennium, could be a nice change of pace. What do you think, Marilyn?”

“I think we’re going to have lots of fun,” the faerie said, grinning.

_EXCELLENT. GABRIELLE, YOU SHOULD RETURN TO HOGWARTS WITH MERLIN. I WILL GUIDE HIM TO MY PERPENDICULARITY IN THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS FROM THERE. INFORM PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL OF MY… ASCENSION. LET HER KNOW THAT I’LL BE IN TOUCH. THERE ARE OTHER MATTERS I MUST SEE TO. THERE IS ONE HERE WHO DOES NOT BELONG._

Daphne’s voice was silent for a few moments, then it returned.

_HARRY, I MUST ASK ONE FINAL TASK OF YOU BEFORE YOU REST._

* * *

Harry and Mak stepped out of an elevator in the British Ministry of Magic, revealing a dark corridor with a single door at the far end. The Department of Mysteries. They followed a thread of rainbow light in the air, leading down the hallway and beyond. Harry opened the door, entering a circular room full of identical doors. The thread led to one on his left. Harry followed it, opening the door and stepping inside. The room was thick with steam, the same kind released from the mud in the Valley. In the distance, Harry could hear several voices. Including two he recognised.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Minister. The Heart-Stone has been like this for almost a hundred years. No matter how we’ve tried to clean it, the mud crusting on it just returned. Now its _evaporated,_ and we can’t banish it.”

“Is it still working at least?” Minister Fudge asked. “Almost all of Britain’s wards are bound to it! The magical sensors, the underage magic restriction, the Wizengamot enchantment, the Pact of Truth! If it broke under my watch, my career would be over.”

“Who’s Fudge talking too?” Harry whispered.

_AN UNSPEAKABLE. A MAGICAL SCIENTIST. A POOR ONE BY THE STANDARDS OF THE MODERN NON-MAGICAL WORLD, ESPECIALLY BY COSMERE STANDARDS, BUT A SCIENTIST NONE THE LESS. IT’S NOT ENTIRELY THEIR FAULT. THE ICW BANS MOST MAGICAL RESEARCH. THEY COULD HAVE BEEN ON THE MOON BY NOW._

Harry suppressed a laugh. Mak did not. Pulling the Strength Force into his veins, Harry glided forward on frictionless feet. He emerged from the fog to find Fudge, Kingsley Shacklebolt and a half dozen wizards with bald heads standing around a giant diamond easily the size of Big Ben, and that was only the half he could see. Most of the gemstone was submerged beneath a veritable beach of sand.

One of the Unspeakables spotted Harry and pointed in shock. Kingsley and Fudge spun towards him, and Kingsley drew his wand. Harry stopped a few metres from the diamond’s edge and folded his hands behind his back, adopting a haughty look.

“I come on behalf of the highest one,” Harry announced, “She is not pleased.”

“Who?” Fudge asked stupidly. A bright flash of rainbow light illuminated the room, and the figure of a majestic woman with hair of every colour, dressed in shimmering raiment brighter than the sun, appeared floating above Harry, hands on his shoulders.

** _“I AM GOD. YOU WILL OBEY MY WILL CORNELIUS FUDGE, OR I WILL END YOUR EXISTENCE.”_ **

Fudge fainted, and the six Unspeakables began prostrating themselves. Kingsley started firing spells. Harry hit him with a lightning bolt again, then dropped his unconscious body into a Division rift. The Unspeakables saw the action, but Harry didn’t make any gestures, so they associated the act with God standing above him instead and began crying out prayers asking to be spared. In his mind, Daphne snickered.

Harry walked up to the diamond, Equality vanishing, and glanced at Mak.

“You ready,” he asked her. She nodded, then flew into the diamond. Harry summoned the Decay Force, then pumped as much of it as he could into the lattice of the diamond. Deep within, Mak’s blue form began to pulse as the magic inside the crystal – pure Enchantment – tried to force itself away from her. Harry shifted the Decay Force solely into his left hand.

“You sure this will work?” he muttered.

_YES._

Harry summoned the Strength Force with his right hand, and immediately the Decay Force tried to pull away from him, the power tapering off. Harry, wincing at the strain, forced his hands to slide together. A sharp cracking sound echoed from the diamond, and the layer around Harry’s hands began to sizzle with heat.

“What are you doing?!” One of the Unspeakables exclaimed.

“Undoing a wrong,” Harry said. He placed one hand over the other, and compelled the Decay and Strength Forces into one conjoined stream, working together. Mak squealed with glee in his mind, and the diamond vibrated under his hands.

_‘Water!’ _He thought to the surface, and then, with a soft popping sound, the diamond transformed into liquid water. The water lost its shape, displacing tonnes of frigid H20 through the room, saturating Harry, Fudge, the Unspeakables and Kingsley, who reappeared from the pocket dimension Harry had sent him too, screaming his name. Finally, a wisp of rainbow light escaped where the diamond had been. It merged with the fog, which then vanished. Reabsorbed into Equality’s essence.

Transfiguration. The one thing he’d never been able to do. It wasn’t so hard after all. He’d just needed God to teach him.

Mak burst free of the deluge as it settled over the sand as a layer of water that came up to about Harry’s knees.

“Yahoo! Can we do it again?!” Harry just laughed.

“What… what have you done?!” Fudge cried, “All the spells… you’ve destroyed them!” He had, evidentially, returned to consciousness.

Harry turned to him. “What was right.” Then he strode out of the room with Mak by his side.

* * *

Ginny blinked back into awareness, stumbling to her knees in the Chamber of Secrets. Or… was it actually the Chamber of Secrets? Yes, it was, but it was like out of a dream, a shadow version. One she’d seen before.

The ground around the beam of rainbow light beside her was comprised of bubbling water, as were the walls stretching up in an identical shape to the Chamber she remembered. Only the places alongside the walls, the fountain ponds, were not made of water. They were instead were made of Black Obsidian.

She was in the Valley. The realm of thoughts and minds. And spirits. Why wasn’t it covered in mud anymore?

A burst of flame erupted from the water, then solidified into Ember. She stood equal to Ginny’s height, wearing a gorgeous black gossamer evening gown. Her skin was still ash white, but her hair was made entirely of fire now.

“Ginny,” Ember beamed, and the two women rushed together, kicking up water. They pulled each other into fierce hugs, and for once, Ginny could genuinely appreciate how warm and physical Ember felt on this side.

“You did it. I’m so proud of you,” she whispered into Ginny’s shoulder.

“We did it. I never would have made it without you.” They continued to embrace for what felt like an eternity, until someone coughed behind them.

“Urgh, how utterly repulsive.” Ginny and Ember turned towards the voice, a boy of perhaps sixteen sitting on the rock ledge, feet in the water. He wore Hogwarts robes and had pale skin and black hair.

“Killed by Ginny fucking Weasley. Isn’t that _ironic,_” Tom said, rolling his eyes. “At least I finally got to watch you die yourself.” Ginny blinked in confusion, staring into the face of the thing that had ruined her life, that had haunted her dreams for so long she could no longer remember sleeping without his voice in her mind. He looked… sickly. His form was starting to blur. Even on this side it was becoming transparent.

He rolled his eyes, then stood up. Ember, eyes blazing with hatred, stormed towards the disembodied spirit. How was he here?

“I promised you I would destroy what remained of your pathetic mind Tom Riddle,” Ember hissed. Then she grabbed Tom around the throat. He didn’t resist. He just sighed in what felt like relief.

“My bond to the girl died with her body. I’m more than willing to finally rest.” Ember spat at him, then her hands caught fire. Tom’s body burst into flames, and he screamed in pain as what remained of the Diary… which she had thrown into the pool… was finally exorcised. His spirit blurred, before being pulled towards the beam and getting absorbed by it.

Ember sighed, then turned back to Ginny, smiling softly. Then she lifted up her hand. The skin there was cracking, breaking into pieces. Even as Ginny watched, golden particles began tearing away from Ember’s entire body. Her heart lurched.

“What’s happening?!” She exclaimed, rushing forward, but Ember held her hand out to Ginny to stop her.

“It’s okay. I knew this was how it would end for me. I’d do it all again. For you,” she said in a soft voice, twin tears sliding down her right cheek. No. No way. She would not let Ember go now. What could she… Ginny glanced down at her own hands. They were blurring, becoming transparent like Tom’s. She glanced again to the beam, and this time she could feel… a tugging. Something was pulling her towards the beam… towards the Beyond.

“We’re dead, aren’t we?” she realised.

“Yes,” said Daphne’s voice, “You don’t have long now.” Ember waved to someone behind Ginny, and she turned around to see Daphne standing before her in rainbow trimmed robes, glowing as radiantly as the beam.

“Daph?”

“Sort of,” she said, then held out her hands, “Come with me.” Ginny, mind racing, took Daphne’s offered hand, and instantly her body stopped fading. Ember did the same, and her body seemed to reconstitute itself somewhat. The Chamber of Secrets vanished in a heartbeat, replaced with an ocean that stretched across the whole horizon.

The mud and slime were gone here too. She could clearly see the black stone island that was the Black Lake on the other side, and she could see thousands of tiny bubbles floating around on one side of it, each one reflecting with an inner light. People. That was where Hogwarts was. To their side was the beam of rainbow light. It was sick no longer, soaring powerfully into the sky, emitting waves of energy from its structure. The sky was a deep blue, and the sun, though still small, was yellow rather than red. But now, something else swirled in the air. A storm of power that rippled around the peak of the beam, swirling around itself like a lazy cyclone.

“I can’t hold you for very long,” Daphne said, “I freed your mind from the Perpendicularity… but diving into it like you did… well, you don’t have a body to send you back to.”

Ginny swallowed.

“So this is… what, heaven?”

Daphne chuckled. “No. This is… a way stop if you’d like. Your body is dead, disintegrated when you dove into the Perpendicularity in the middle of the axial tilt. But your mind was stuck in a sort of… limbo. I let you out, but you have to take the final step soon.”

“What about Voldemort? The real one?”

Daphne’s face darkened. “His new body, like yours, was destroyed. I have what remains of his soul, trapped where it can never see the light of day.” Ginny breathed a sigh of relief, gazing out over the tranquil ocean. She was dead. She supposed she should be more shocked at that. But she didn’t feel shocked, or disturbed, or even dejected or pained. She just felt an overwhelming sense of… disappointment. There had been something she’d been trying to gain the courage to do, and now she’d never get the chance.

“How is he?” she asked softly, taking Ember’s hand as her skin began to crack once more.

“He blames himself,” Daphne said solemnly, “he tries not to, but he can’t see past it.”

“Can I speak to him?” Daphne looked thoughtful, and Ginny finally saw the thin tendrils that connected Daphne’s body to the storm of energy high above. Why was Daphne of all people here to greet her?

“I can send him a message for you.”

And so Ginny told Daphne what she wished she’d been able to say in life, until, finally, the tugging began to pull her up into the sky, and her form began to blur. She glanced to Ember and hugged her friend one more time.

“Goodbye, sweet one,” Ember whispered, “Goodbye.” Ginny, tears streaming down her face, let go of her friend, and her form dissipated into golden dust. Ginny turned to Daphne, who was watching her with a sad smile.

“Thank you,” Ginny said.

Daphne bowed to her, and Ginny let herself fade away, pulled towards that place Beyond.

* * *

One month later, Gabrielle found Harry back in the forest grove, staring at the pool of water. It was daytime now, but the pool still looked as though it were reflecting moonlight. With the Pact of Truth destroyed, faeries had begun returning to Earth in droves. Most of them had come here, drawn to Imagination’s Perpendicularity, and dozens of flittering lights of all different colours and shapes now moved between the trees and flowers. According to Aerith, the leader of the faeries – who was a light-faerie like Carellia – two other conclaves had popped up on Earth so far. One in Ireland: ancient faeries returning to their ancestral homes. And one in New Zealand.

Harry had gone back to the Bunker and marvelled at how Daphne had changed it. Over five-hundred people were sheltering there now, and more people were coming every day. They had room, beds, food, money. It was everything Harry had ever dreamed of those years on the street. Emily, Nylah and Sammy had returned there with him, and together, Emily and Harry had told their story to all the kids. Both of them were officially superheroes now in their eyes. Take that Iron Man.

Professor McGonagall had been elected as the new Headmistress of Hogwarts, the Wizengamot had been disbanded when Harry destroyed the spells granting noble peerages, and Fudge was on track to be deposed. Odds were, Amelia Bones would be his replacement, and the Death Eaters who escaped justice at the end of the War would finally be sent to prison. Merlin had cleaned up and restored the Chamber of Secrets before his departure through the Perpendicularity. And, most importantly to Harry’s mind, Ginny had been hailed a hero for defeating Voldemort once and for all, as well as helping to expose Dumbledore’s sinister plots. The old man was in a holding cell now, being prepared for trial. The mystery woman who’d been in the secret cells had vanished. Ginny had been declared the winner of the Triwizard Tournament in absentia. Harry and Gabrielle had made sure the money was given to Fred and George – the only family members that had stood by her. They promised to use the funds well, intending to finally start up their joke shop. Maybe they could bring some well-deserved happiness to the world. Harry wished them both well. He’d also resisted the urge to punch her parents. Ginny’s mother hadn’t even shown up for her funeral, though her father and other brothers had. Even Ron.

Finally, a half dozen new Imagineers had already appeared in the vicinity of Glastonbury. Harry and Gabrielle had begun training them, and Emily, Susan Bones and a boy named Arron had already gotten a solid grasp of the magic of Design.

It seemed Daphne’s promise was actually coming true. With Equality restored, the world was changing. After so much evil and hate and fear permeating the world for so long, there was a lot of good to go around. Even things in the human world were looking up.

So why did Harry feel so empty? He had everything he’d ever wanted. This was the start of a new beginning. Yet he couldn’t shake the shadow, the feeling that somebody else should be there to enjoy everything with him. _She_ wasn’t there.

Harry hadn’t realised how much he’d come to rely on Ginny being in his life. She provided a warmth that invigorated him, refreshed him. She had given him a purpose beyond just missions and protecting the Bunker. She’d been something to strive for. A goal. For once in his life, he’d actually thought only about himself. Had a dream for the future, instead of just reacting to the present.

He’d never see her smiling face again. He had saved the world, three times over, yet it seemed pale in comparison to that simple daunting fact.

Gabrielle stepped up behind him, following his gaze to the pool.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” she asked softly.

“How did you know?”

“Because I was thinking of doing the same thing,” she said. “I loved that girl. Maybe not in the same way that you did, but I loved her. She was more of a sister to me this year than Fleur ever was. Now I’m trying to do my part to put the world back together, one shit piece at a time, but it all seems… pointless, because she’s not there to see it. You know?”

Harry sighed. “Yeah. I know.” Gabrielle stepped up to the pool, backpack slung over her shoulder, Vel in her breast pocket.

“What will you tell your parents?” he asked.

“I left a note. Telling them I had to leave. Figure things out on my own. My Veela powers are getting out of control,” she admitted, “Fleur and Mum have felt it too, but they’re used to having to dampen the Veela Allure. I’m not, and quite frankly, the stares are freaking me out.” Harry chuckled slightly. He glanced at Mak, who nodded wistfully, then stood up and grabbed his own pack from where it was hanging off a tree branch.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” She asked nervously, “You’re a hero. A legend in the making. You could play a key part in rebuilding this fractured world.”

Harry sighed. “I honestly don’t think I’d be very good at it. I’m a fighter, and a damn good one. I don’t really know what to do with peace, with reconstruction. I don’t have a mission here anymore. Maybe… maybe I can find one out there.”

She nodded, satisfied with his answer. He grabbed Gabrielle’s hand, and together they stepped into the shallow pool.

Harry closed his eyes and focussed on transitioning. On transporting to the Valley. The water at his feet began to ripple, then it surged around them like a wave, though he didn’t get wet. The water abated, and Harry opened his eyes. The grove was gone. In its place was an ocean that spread out as far as the eye could see. Gabrielle stood beside him, appearing once again as she had that night when Daphne had ascended, and beside them were Mak and Vel. Mak was her full size, enormous feathered wings folded around her like a cape, blonde hair falling in waves down her back. Vel’s skin was even darker on this side than in the real world, and his hair was bright electric green, matching his tattoos and eyes.

Daphne stood in the ocean in front of them, rainbow light rippling off her form. A thin tether led from her humanoid form up to the sky, where a storm of energy sat, temperate and serene. The real Daphne was up there, this was just an image she created for them to see.

“If it makes you feel any better,” she said with a light smile, “I’m leaving too.” Harry and Gabrielle both frowned.

“How can you leave?” Gabrielle asked, “You’re… God. You’re watching over the planet and everything…”

“Most of me will remain here. Watching. Working. But a part of me… a sliver if you will, can leave. Merlin reported back yesterday. There is another Shard of Heaven nearby. Merlin spoke to this ‘Harmony’ on my behalf and has arranged a meeting. I hope to learn from him. Maybe the truth of where these Shards come from in the first place. At the very least, he can teach me how to intervene in the world without destroying it.” She paused, looking thoughtful.

“You could come with me?”

Harry glanced up at the bright yellow sun, then back down to Gabrielle. She shook her head.

“Maybe we will eventually,” Gabrielle said, “But for now I think maybe we’ll just explore a bit. There’s a whole cosmere out there, who knows what we’ll find.” Daphne smiled at them.

“Well, regardless, I have something to tell you before you go.” She looked to the ground, and Harry realised she was crying slightly. It was incredibly humbling, the idea that a god, even one that was his friend, could cry.

“I found Ginny,” she said, looking back up with tears in her eyes.

Harry blinked.

“What do you mean?” Gabrielle asked, hand trembling in Harry’s.

“She was trapped in the Perpendicularity. I was able to save her mind, but her body… She had too much Imagination flowing through her. Passing through my Perpendicularity destroyed her. She… I spoke to her as she died. Her and Ember both. She left a message for you.”

Daphne held forth a hand, and an image of Ginny swirled into being.

_“Harry, Gabi… I don’t have long,”_ the image said, and just hearing Ginny’s voice was enough to make Harry start crying. _“I just wanted to say thank you. Both of you. You managed to pull me out of the spiral I’d been trapped in. Something… I never would have believed possible a year ago. Honestly, without you, I don’t think I would have made it this far. You helped me hold up the weight of the sky, just like you promised Harry, and because of that, I got to extend my time far beyond what was due me. I got to mend my wounds, to really come to believe in myself again.” _She sniffed, wiping her nose with her arm, eyes red. Harry latched onto Gabrielle like a lifeline, and she held to him just as tightly. Behind him, Mak circled Harry’s waist with her arms and laid her head on his shoulder.

_“I got the sister I’d always dreamed of having…” _Gabrielle made a soft mewling noise in the back of her throat.

_“And I fell in love. I got the chance to experience that before I died… and there isn’t much more someone can ask for.” _Ginny’s visage smiled through her tears, and Harry felt his heart crack just a little more.

_“Don’t suffer because of me. Please. I ended my life in the best way imaginable. I saved you. If I had to do it again, I would. Every time. So please, for me, move on. Don’t hold yourself back. Be happy. Be free. I’ll be watching and cheering from the sidelines. And Mak? Vel? You keep these two numbskulls safe you hear me?”_

The two faeries, both of whom were balling, nodded solemnly to the image.

A tear slid down Ginny’s face, and she held up a hand to them.

_“I love you.”_

Then she blurred away, and the image vanished.

Gabrielle and Harry pulled Daphne and the two faeries into a fierce hug, and together they stayed for a long time. Finally, they parted, all their tears spent.

“Thank you,” Harry whispered.

“It was the least I could do.” They nodded, and Gabrielle sniffled, blinking away the water in her eyes.

“Good luck. I hope you find what you need to,” she said.

“Until we meet again, my friends,” Daphne replied softly. She raised a hand in farewell, then dissipated into mist, the tendril receding into the sky.

Harry glanced back at the Perpendicularity one last time. He could still see the pool, but on this side a beam of silver energy rose from it, piercing the sky. He turned away from Earth and grabbed Gabrielle’s hand in his right, and Mak’s in his left, and together they began their journey across the sea into the unknown.


	28. Ars Arcanum

# Epilogue

** _A few hours after Daphne’s Ascension…_ **

Khriss, worldhopping arcanist from the planet Taldain, stepped into the ‘secret’ dungeon beneath Hogwarts and marched down the corridor. She was a tall woman with dark skin and long braided hair. She supposed, on this planet, she would be mistaken for someone of an African complexion.

She had tailed the Potter boy and his friends as they escorted their Headmaster down here. At her side was her best friend and expert cartographer Nazh. And on her other side was someone she had never pictured herself having to work with on something like this. Hoid.

They stopped beside one of the cells, and Khriss kicked the door open. Lying on a camp bed, rocking back and forth, was Claraea Mayfair.

Claraea had been Khriss’ protege. A young genius from an abusive home, Khriss had taken the lost girl under her wing on her first visit to Roshar. They had journeyed around the Cosmere for years, and together with Nazh, Will Orellian from Nalthis and a few others, they had founded the University of Silverlight. It had been their collective mission to learn as much about the Cosmere as was possible. Claraea had been on assignment, travelling to Earth to investigate the sudden exodus of faeries across the World Sea to Shadesmar. Then she’d disappeared.

Khriss had tried to come searching sooner, but several crises had reared their heads at once, and she’d been forced to prioritise. As a result of her actions, Claraea’s husband, Will, had been killed on Roshar. Alone. She still hadn’t forgiven herself.

It had taken an agonisingly long time to actually find a way to the Physical Realm on the planet. Eventually, she and Nazh had been forced to ask Hoid for help. They’d succeeded in crossing, using the Perpendicularity at the Vault of Dreams at no small risk to themselves. From there, they had spent an agonisingly long time trying to track down any sign of their friend. All those signs had led here. Hogwarts Castle.

Khriss and Nazh rushed over to their friend, and Khriss grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Claraea? It’s me? It’s Khriss.” Claraea didn’t respond. She just continuing rocking. Her once lustrous blonde hair had turned to grey, and her skin had lost almost all of its colour. She was emaciated, and her whole body had atrophied from lack of movement.

“What did they do to you?” she whispered, horrified. She glanced to Nazh as he pulled a fabric bag from the leather satchel slung across his shoulder and handed it to her. She mouthed a thank you, then dug inside, withdrawing a glass sphere like a marble, with an emerald trapped inside – the gemstone glowing with a soft inner light. She placed it in Claraea’s hand and closed her fingers around it.

“Come on…” Nazh whispered. Nothing happened.

“I’m afraid her mind has suffered too much damage, Khrissalla,” Hoid said softly, his usual mirthful and trickster like demeanour failing even him at that moment.

“I’m sorry for your friend,” a new voice said. The trio spun towards the door and came face to face with a young woman dressed in a flowing dress that reflected all colours of the rainbow. Her feet were bare, and her shoulder-length hair seemed to shimmer, changing shades with each second Khriss looked. But the eyes… looking into those eyes, wells of eternity, revealed to Khriss who she was talking to.

“So it’s true,” she breathed, falling to her knees, Nazh following suit.

“Equality has found a new vessel,” Hoid said. He did not bow.

“Indeed,” Equality said, staring into the room towards Claraea. “This power I hold. It allows me to see into the past, and in doing so, I can glimpse your friend’s arrival on Earth. She was captured by Gellert Grindelwald, a man of sickening evil. He tortured her for years before her mind finally snapped. But know that even with her mind devastated, she would not give up her secrets. I am eternally grateful for your friend’s willpower. Should Grindelwald have discovered knowledge of powers greater than his own… I fear for what might have befallen this world.” The Vessel shivered. _Such a human emotion,_ Khriss noted. The scholarly part of her wanted to ask all the questions she had always wanted to ask one of the Shards of Heaven but never been able to. She just couldn’t bring herself to do it. All she felt was pain for her friend.

“You may take her,” Equality said softly, “I will create a temporary bridge for you to use, but then you must leave. This world will soon face a great upheaval, and you must be gone before the chaos starts. My ability to pierce the future is not as strong as my Connection to the past, but I am learning more as my mind expands.”

Equality then turned towards Hoid, fixing her gaze upon him like a storm.

“You, Cephandrius, will depart my lands immediately and not return. This power remembers you, and that means so do I. You claim to be trying to help? Go to Roshar and prevent Odium from escaping Damnation. Leave Earth and take that infernal _thing_ with you.” A flash of what Khriss could only describe as fury passed across the Vessel’s face. Then she vanished. The back wall of the cell rippled, transforming into a doorway like rippling water – revealing an endless ocean beyond.

“Is there a single Shard you _haven’t _pissed off?” Khriss asked softly, as if that could stop Equality from hearing her.

“Perhaps it’s my devilish charm that irritates them so?” Hoid replied, though he seemed a bit unnerved. Nazh snorted, returning the bag of spheres to his satchel.

Khriss helped Nazh lift Claraea from the bed and carry her through the Perpendicularity. Hoid followed them, stopping at the edge of the gateway for a moment, smirking, before following through.

As they began the trek back towards Faehaven, the closest port, Khriss couldn’t help but cast the occasional glance over her shoulder. In the blue sky high above them, a storm of rainbow energy followed their every move.

Only after they boarded a ship to Silverlight and set sail across the World Sea did Equality turn her gaze away, leaving them all behind.

* * *

# Ars Arcanum

## The Sol System

The Sol System appears, when compared to its neighbours, as rather boring. It possesses nine planets – five terrestrial and four gaseous – but only one now lies within the habitable zone. According to old star charts, the planets Venus and Mars used to be habitable, but when Odium did battle with Equality and Imagination in this system, both planets were pushed into incorrect orbits, destroying any chance at developing liveable ecosystems.

As a result, Earth is the only planet in the system capable of sustaining life. Life on this planet has developed somewhat morbidly and erratically, likely the result of Equality’s splintered essence lying across the planet’s surface like oil on water. The people here have a significant propensity towards innovation and dreaming, thanks to the Shard of Imagination’s neglectful influence, but it tends to be warped by Equality’s poisoned touch, causing significant and frequent devastations that have stalled the planets development, or advanced it at uncontrollable and rapid paces.

It is not my area of expertise to speak on the histories of such things, and I refer the reader to Will and Claraea’s excellent volume, _The Shattering of Adonalsium: the Birth of the Sixteen,_ if you wish to learn more of those events. What I can speak of is the manifestation of Investiture on the planet. Investiture – known colloquially as magic – concentrates in a specific set of people known as Witches and Wizards, a secret, backwards society. It is, ironically, thanks to the ban on magical research maintained by the so called ‘Statute of Secrecy’ that the people of Earth have not yet discovered the existence of Realmatic Theory, or that in the vastness of the cosmere, they are very much not alone.

Before I dive into an explanation of the twin magic systems of this planet, special attention is worth devoting to the bizarre nature of Realmatic interactions in this system. Here, more than anywhere else in the cosmere, the barriers between the Physical, Cognitive and Spiritual Realms are weaker. Prior to the creation of the ‘Pact of Truth’, cognitive entities could actually cross between realms without using a Perpendicularity, resulting in a rich and arrayed culture of ‘magical’ beings and beasts appearing on all corners of the planet. Indeed, even with the Pact in place, some species have managed to thrive in the Physical Realm, such as the Goblins.

What caused these variances in interactions interests me greatly, particularly given the phenomenon I witnessed in the Cognitive Realm near Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A Window like a giant scar cutting across the sky, and on the other side I could have sworn I saw a sea of red mist. The Window was hidden from my observations by Equality almost immediately, but I know what I saw. Could this Window be the origin of the weakened realmic barriers? Perhaps it is a gateway directly into the Spiritual Realm, the Beyond, that place no living mind can access.

With Equality now restored and the Pact of Truth disallowed, much will soon change on Earth. When I return to Silverlight, I will put together a research team to investigate further.

_Khriss._

* * *

## Enchantment

Enchantment is a system of Investiture created by the Shard of Equality which can be used by Witches and Wizards to ‘convince’ matter and energy, through the use of the six Disciplines of Enchantment, to take the shape the user demands. The use of wands negates this to a degree, with the wand performing the convincing rather than the wizard. Certain spells, however, still require intent and force of will even with wands, such as the Killing Curse.

This system of Investiture, as far as I have been able to observe, has been studied only sporadically, and very little innovation has been made in its function since its discovery several hundred years before the current time. The is mostly due to a rather backwards ban on the studying of their own powers. The only reasons people seem to have studied this art intently is to make things easier for themselves, owing to the invention of the Wand. How… boring.

Similar to the Metallic Arts of Scadrial, Enchantment is attuned to a person’s spirit web. Only those with a genetic predisposition towards this system of Investiture can access it. I have a theory that the origins of this genetic trait derive from the massive amounts of energy released by the splintering of Equality. It requires further study.

Enchantment appears, in line with its origin with Equality, to be an end-neutral form of investiture. The power required to perform a spell is drawn directly from the casters body and Spiritweb, then used to enact an effect on the physical world. For any action taken to shape reality, an equal opposite reaction must take place to compensate. In most cases, this merely takes the form of physical exertion, but the more powerful the Enchantment, the higher the cost – examples include body or Spiritweb mutilation, memory damage, or emotional trauma.

Wands are used by most if not all Witches or Wizards to mitigate the effects of the opposing reaction on their persons. The wand, a quasi-sentient magical instrument through which a witch or wizard channels her or his magical powers, takes on a considerable portion of the strain of spell casting, while also increasing the accuracy and focus of the spell itself.

However – and this is the most fascinating observation I have made concerning this system of investiture – because Equality has been splintered, the laws of Enchantment are in constant flux. This is the first demonstration of an investiture system functioning differently _after _the shattering of its origin Shard.

Exceptions and misunderstandings appear to arise frequently amongst its users. For example, spells used at some points in time are somehow forgotten then remembered later. Other known effects of this phenomenon are the magical inequality between Purebloods, Half-Bloods, Muggleborns, Squibs and Muggles, and the _axial tilt _– a constant shifting between the relative strength and weakness of magic of light and dark intent against one another.

What changes will manifest now that Equality has been restored are unknown. Once again, further research is required.

###  The Six Disciplines of Magic

**Abjuration** (Defence Against the Dark Arts): the power to protect/heal

**Conjuration** (Transfiguration/Alchemy): the power to create, summon or vanish objects.

**Transmutation** (Transfiguration): the power to transform

**Divination **(Divination): the power to gain information

**Necromancy** (Not taught at Hogwarts): the power to manipulate the forces of life and death

**Evocation** (Not taught at Hogwarts): the power to manipulate the elements.

Other types of Magic separate from the Eight Disciplines or not specific to a single Discipline.

**Charms:** the bestowal of additional properties to a person or object.

**Dark Magic:** Magic typically used for selfish, self-serving and/or nefarious purposes.

**Light Magic: **Magic typically used for selfless, protective, defensive or healing purposes.

### Other Magical Subjects Taught at Hogwarts:

  * **Arithmancy:** The study of the magical properties of numbers. The main component in spell creation. The magical equivalent of Mathematics and Physics.
  * **Ancient Runes:** The study of the magical properties of the written word.
  * **Herbology:** The study of the magical properties of plants. The magical equivalent of Biology/Botany
  * **Astronomy:** The study of the magical properties of celestial objects.
  * **Alchemy:** The study of magical reactions and creation in physical substances. The magical equivalent of Chemistry. Potions is a lesser form of Alchemy. This subject appears to be in some way related to the Metallic Arts of Scadrial.
  * **Care of Magical Creatures:** The study of magical creatures and how to care for and/or react to and/or defend against them.
  * **History:** The study of previous historical events.

* * *

## Design

The Magical Art of Design is an end-positive system of Investiture that stems from the Shard of Imagination. It allows Imagineers to shape reality around them – the only apparent limit to what they can do is dependent on the Imagineer’s creativity.

Every person in the cosmere (invested and non-invested alike) is born with an innate ‘spark’ of imagination and creativity. However, one can only become an Imagineer if that spark is nurtured, becoming strong enough to attract faerie-blooded beings. Once attracted, a faerie will anchor themselves to that person – similar to the Nahel Bond on Roshar – creating a spiritual link between the two and granting that person access directly to Imagination’s power in the Spiritual Realm.

Imagineers can ‘draw’ upon Imagination itself, then use the six Forces of Design in order to shape reality according to their intent. There is no counterbalance as with Equality.

Interestingly, a person cannot use both Enchantment and Design at the same time.

## The Six Forces of Design:

### Charge Force

The Charge Force governs the interaction of matter and energy. It can be manipulated to induce or reduce ‘charge’ – polarisation – within matter. It is responsible for phenomenon such as Electromagnetic Fields, Magnetism, Electricity, light and sound.

  * **Electricity:** This ability allows for the manipulation of electric charge.
  * **Magnetism:** This ability allows for the manipulation of the attraction and repulsion experienced by objects affected by an electromagnetic field.
  * **Waves:** This ability allows for the manipulation of light and soundwaves.

### Life Force

The Life Force governs the interaction of matter and souls. It can be manipulated to induce ‘life’ within matter. It cannot be used to affect deceased organisms.

  * **Healing:** User can restore biotic organisms to their optimal health, curing damaged or withered organisms, wounds, broken bones, low vitality, and diseases/poisoning. The body can be refreshed and rid of fatigue. However, once the soul leaves the body and reaches the afterlife, it is impossible to revive the person. This ability can only heal recent injuries. It will fail to heal injuries that are too old.
  * **Communication: **The ability to communicate with another living entity mentally. This power can be used to coerce the weak-minded, manipulate memory or control the actions or emotions of others
  * **Connection:** The Life Force can be used to forge a Connection to other beings – both physical and cognitive. It also allows the user to affect the Cognitive Realm _from _the Physical Realm.

### Strength Force

The Strength Force governs nuclear fusion. It is responsible for the construction of the atom, the internal cohesion of an object, and the resistance between surfaces. It’s power greatly decreases with distance.

  * **Binding**: This ability creates an extremely powerful temporary bond between two objects. It cannot attract things, only bind them.
  * **Stability: **The ability to manipulate the stability or rigidity of an object.
  * **Resistance**: This ability allows the user to manipulate the resistance between objects or surfaces. Friction and molecular bonds can both be manipulated using this power.

### Decay Force

The Decay Force governs nuclear fission. It is responsible for radioactive decay. It is very dangerous, in that every use emits a degree of radiation.

  * **Decay**: Using this force allows the user to break the molecular bonds holding matter together. Objects, or people, can be burned, turned to dust, or decayed in other ways.
  * **Radiation: **This ability allows the user to manipulate radiation given off by the Decay Force or natural emissions. Radiation will always be released by an act using this power.

### Fusion Force

The Fusion Force governs interactions of attraction and repulsion between matter. It is the cause of the formation, shape and trajectory of planets, stars and galaxies. This force is naturally weak against small objects or at small distances.

  * **Gravitation**: This ability alters an object's or being's gravitational bond to the planet below, instead temporarily linking it to a different object or direction. It allows the user to run up walls and send objects or people flying off into the air. This power only affects gravitational pull and not mass, so different things with different masses will still fall at the same speed.
  * **Levitation: **This ability grants the power to levitate people or objects, suspending or removing their connection to gravity.

### Division Force

The Division Force governs the generation and distribution of matter across space-time. It is virtually impossible to detect, and is responsible for keeping dimensions from interacting with one another.

  * **Separation: **The user can create, shape and manipulate dimensions, beginning with the physical 0-D, 1-D, 2-D, 3-D, and 4-D, changing their own dimensions.
  * **Switching: **The ability to ‘switch’ oneself or an object with another person or object within space.
  * **Transportation: **The user can travel between different dimensions and universes, and cross over different planes of existence or travel across various forms of reality.

## Other notes:

### On Aluminium:

It appears, like with the other systems of Investiture across the Cosmere, that Aluminium has an innate resistance to magic on Earth. When touching an object made from Aluminium, an Imagineer will be blocked from accessing their abilities. Enchantment is not so restricted; but using magic on objects made from this metal is incredibly difficult, if not impossible. Interestingly, it can be conjured, but not vanished. A wand exposed directly to Aluminium will go dun, nor can a wand be made using this metal.

### On Hemalurgy:

Imagineers are the only known invested entities to be immune to Hemalurgic spikes. This is because of the nature of belief inherent to Design. Both the Imagineer and the Hemalurgist performing the spiking would have to _believe_ that the Imagineers powers would be affected by the act. Faeries, as beings of Imagination with the intent to _‘create,’_ would instantly sense a Hemalurgic spike and divine it’s true nature as that of Ruin. This requires further study, though I do not know how I could go about it, as stabbing people with Hemalurgically charged metals tends to either kill the recipient, or mutilate their Spiritweb.

Hemalurgy functions normally on an ordinary Witch or Wizard using only Enchantment. You can thank Hoid for figuring that one out. I didn’t ask how he did it, and don’t plan too.

* * *

# The Cosmere: An Explainer and a Starter.

Wow this was big, and we couldn’t have done it alone. This fanfiction, while obviously centred on Harry Potter, has incorporated background elements and worldbuilding from the Cosmere novels written by Brandon Sanderson. The author has written several series of novels of different genres within the same continuity, with the occasional crossover character or event.

This story is designed to fit into that continuity while not stepping on it, and technically remains canon until all the Shards of Adonalsium are eventually revealed. Each Shard generates its own magic, and worldhoppers, people who travel between the worlds of the Cosmere, have a tendency to collect these magics. Nicolas Flamel is one of them.

Flamel’s powers are as follows.

  * Flamel’s colourful aura comes from his _Breath_, the magic of Endowment depicted in the novel, _Warbreaker._
  * The potions he carries are Allomancy vials, the magic of Preservation depicted in the _Mistborn Trilogy_
  * The knife both Flamel and Harry use, is a Hemalurgic Spike, the magic of Ruin, also depicted in the _Mistborn Trilogy_
  * Finally, the giant sword he carries is a Shardblade – which is the combined magic of Honour and Cultivation, depicted in the _Stormlight Archive. _This series explains quite clearly why the faeries are afraid of the weapon, and we don’t want to say it here because it constitutes major spoilers. That being said, if you don’t want to read Stormlight, the answer appears in this story in the first P.O.V of chapter 14. If you’re still confused, send us a review and we will tell you.

For those of you who have read the Cosmere stories, or are now planning to, this story takes place shortly after the Catacendre on Scadrial and the Recreance on Roshar, but before the Manywar on Nalthis.

If you enjoyed this story, you’ll love reading these books, and we want to give back to Sanderson as much as we can, so here is a comprehensive guide to where to start, depending on what you enjoyed from this story, or what intrigued you the most.

* * *

_ **The Mistborn Trilogy – Book 1: The Final Empire.** _

_ Shards: Preservation and Ruin. Planet: Scadrial _

_“Ash falls from the sky on the planet Scadrial. Beneath a red sun, and chocked by oppressive mists that dominate the night, no flowers or green plants have bloomed on this planet for a thousand years. Not since the Lord Ruler killed the prophesied Hero of Ages, taking the world for himself._

_For a millennia, the Skaa have slaved in misery and lived in fear while the Lord Ruler reigned with absolute power and ultimate terror, a divine and invincible leader. Hope is long lost, until a terribly scarred, heart-broken half-Skaa in the depths of the most hellish of the Lord Ruler’s prisons discovers he has the powers of a Mistborn. A brilliant thief and natural leader, Kelsier will turn his talents to the ultimate caper: one with the Lord Ruler himself as the mark.  
Only he's not just planning the greatest heist in history, he's plotting the overthrow of a divine despot.  
Kelsier has recruited the underworld's elite, the smartest and most trustworthy Allomancers, each of whom shares one of his many powers, and all of whom relish a high-stakes challenge. _

_But even with the best criminal crew ever assembled, Kel's plan looks like a long shot, until luck brings a ragged girl named Vin into his life. Like him, she's a half-Skaa orphan with the powers of a Mistborn, but she's lived a much harsher life. Vin has learned to expect betrayal from everyone she meets, and gotten it. She will have to learn to trust, if Kel is to help her master powers of which she never dreamed.”_

This is the most Harry Potter-esque of the Cosmere novels. Imagine Ocean’s Eight but set in Mordor after Sauron has ruled for 1000 years. If you’re a fan of Dystopias like the Hunger Games, technical magic, or unorthodox takes on the divide between traditional ‘good’ and ‘evil’ this is a must read.

If you wish to learn about the conflict between **Preservation** and **Ruin**, and the final fate of the planet Scadrial, we recommend starting here.

* * *

** _ Warbreaker _ **

_ Shard: Endowment. Planet: Nalthis _

_“Warbreaker is the story of two sisters who happen to be princesses, the God King one of them has to marry, the lesser god who doesn't believe in his own religion, and the immortal who's still trying to undo the mistakes he made hundreds of years ago. Their world is one in which those who die in glory return as gods to live confined to a pantheon in Hallandren's capital city. A world transformed by BioChromatic magic; a power based on an essence known as Breath. Using magic is arduous: Breath can only be collected only one unit at a time from individual people._

_But the rewards are great. By using Breath and drawing upon the colour in everyday objects, all manner of miracles and mischief can be accomplished. It will take considerable quantities of each to resolve all the challenges facing Vivenna and Siri, princesses of Idris; Susebron, the God King of Hallandren; Lightsong, Returned deity and reluctant god of bravery; and mysterious Vasher, the immortal Warbreaker.”_

Warbreaker is Miracle’s personal favourite Cosmere novel. If you’re curious about the Shard of **Endowment** and her efforts to resurrect the dead which we’ve alluded to multiple times, this is your jumping on point.

A sort of prequel to the Stormlight Archive, Warbreaker is a novel about paradigm, and how the roles in which we must play shape who we become. If you like books that shake you to the core or throw twists at you that you never see coming, this is a must read.

* * *

_ **The Stormlight Archive – Book 1: The Way of Kings** _

_ Shards: Honour, Cultivation and Odium. Planet: Roshar. _

Speak again the ancient oaths:  
  
**Life before death.**  
**Strength before weakness.**  
**Journey before Destination.**  
  
and return to men the Shards they once bore.  
  
The Knights Radiant must stand again.

_“Roshar is a world of stone and storms. Uncanny tempests of incredible power sweep across the rocky terrain so frequently that they have shaped ecology and civilization alike. Animals hide in shells, trees pull in branches, and grass retracts into the soilless ground. Cities are built only where the topography offers shelter._

_It has been centuries since the fall of the ten consecrated orders known as the Knights Radiant, but their Shardblades and Shardplate remain: mystical swords and suits of armour that transform ordinary men into near-invincible warriors. Men trade kingdoms for Shardblades. Wars were fought for them, and won by them._

_One such war rages on a ruined landscape called the Shattered Plains. There, Kaladin, who traded his medical apprenticeship for a spear to protect his little brother, has been reduced to slavery. In a war that makes no sense, where ten armies fight separately against a single foe, he struggles to save his men and to fathom the leaders who consider them expendable._

_Brightlord Dalinar Kholin commands one of those other armies. Like his brother, the late king, he is fascinated by an ancient text called The Way of Kings. Troubled by over-powering visions of ancient times and the Knights Radiant, he has begun to doubt his own sanity._

_Across the ocean, an untried young woman named Shallan seeks to train under an eminent scholar and notorious heretic, Dalinar's niece, Jasnah. Though she genuinely loves learning, Shallan's motives are less than pure. As she plans a daring theft, her research for Jasnah hints at secrets of the Knights Radiant and the true cause of the war.”_

This series… we can’t say enough good things about it. This series knocks Game of Throne out of the water with its intricacy (and, for the record, he’s released three 1000page novels and a novella – while still working on his other series – in the span it’s taken Martin to not even finish Winds of Winter). This is a must read for lovers of High Fantasy like the Lord of the Rings, Game of Thrones and Terry Pratchett’s Discworld.

To discover more about the Shards of **Honour** and **Cultivation**, the fall of the Knights Radiant, and the mysterious **Hoid**, read this series first. It is from Stormlight that you will learn of Equality’s killer, Tom Riddle’s master and Ginny’s tormenter: The Shard of **Odium**.

* * *

** All Cosmere books by Brandon Sanderson ** :

  
**The Stormlight Archive:**  
_The Way of Kings_  
_Words of Radiance _(This one is Ghost’s favourite)  
_Edgedancer _(Novella)  
_Oathbringer_

_Rhythm of War (scheduled release November 17th, 2020)_

_Untitled Fifth Novel (scheduled release unknown)_

**The Mistborn trilogy:**   
_Mistborn: The Final Empire_   
_The Well of Ascension_   
_The Hero of Ages_

_Mistborn: Secret History _(Novella)  
  
**Mistborn Era 2: The Wax and Wayne series **  
_Alloy of Law_  
_Shadows of Self_  
_Bands of Mourning_

_The Lost Metal (scheduled release 2021)_

**Collections**  
_Arcanum Unbounded _(Shards: Various)

**Standalone Cosmere novels**  
_Elantris _(Shards: Devotion and Dominion)  
_Warbreaker _

**Graphic Novels:**

_White Sand (Vols 1-3) (Shard: Autonomy)_

* * *

# End Notes:

And so we come to the end of this tale. We currently have no plans to write a sequel to this story, though perhaps one day, when we know more about the Cosmere ourselves, we’ll return.

We know many of you will be upset by our decision not to bring Ginny back to life. In all honesty, we wrote two endings for the story. One where Ginny survived, and one where she didn’t. We decided, ultimately to use the version where she truly was dead, because the one where she survived just felt incredibly cheap. Harry and Gabrielle’s grieving felt unjustified and pointless, and her sacrifice to save their lives, and the lives of all the people who scorned her, was invalidated. It didn’t feel earned. So we decided to leave Ginny to finally rest, but you still get her final send off in this chapter. And when Harry does die, he will be reunited with her in the Beyond.

Those of you who’ve read Harry Potter and the Gemini Curse, our epic 400,000 word story that is now completed, will recognise several elements in this chapter providing a bit of connective tissue between the two stories. For those of you wondering, this story takes place on Earth 127 of the Multiverse we introduced you to in that story. As you can see, the events depicted in the finale of Gemini have had profound impacts across not only the universe of Gemini Curse – Earth 125 – but on its neighbouring universes as well. This concept will be explored further in later entries in our Enigmaverse Saga. And yes, the two people we name dropped are who you think they are.

We hope you enjoyed this story, and if you’re curious about what we’ll be doing now, we’re still working on the second and third entries for the Enigmaverse: Harry Potter and the Blessing of the Phoenix, and Supergirl: The Lost Daughter. We will also be participating in the Jericho Writers Summer Festival of Writing running June to September, and for you guys, that means we might try our hands at Oneshots from time to time to flex our writing muscles or try out new techniques. If any of you are aspiring writers of your own, here is a link for you to check out (just remove the spaces).

https://jerichowriters.com/festival-of-writing/

Here is the really good news. We have been working hard behind the scenes on the draft of our original novel. Approximately one month ago, we completed this draft and submitted it for review to certain people whom we cannot name. Then, a week ago, we received some very good news that, once again, we can’t tell you. We would love to give you guys a taster, but because of Copyright, we can’t.

We are also still answering all your reviews! Because of the new Fanfiction . net guidelines, they won’t send you emails to notify you of our replies though, so you’ll need to check your account. If you’re a fan of the Arrowverse, pop over to Crisis: The Brave New World, or if you want to check out Gemini Curse, feel welcome.

Thanks again True Believers, we’ll see you next time!

Love, Ghost and Miracle.


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